Lost in the Darkness
by MysteryMadchen
Summary: A/U: Sam and Dean are on a routine ghost hunt when a drunk driver derails their plans and causes Sam a serious injury which may change thier lives forever. limp!Sam, hurt Sam and major Dean Angst. Be gentle this is my first fic. **Some spoilers**
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Sam and Dean are on a hunt for a garden variety ghost when a drunk driver derails their plans and may just change their lives forever. Sam suffers a debilitating injury and Dean is left to pick up the pieces.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, I gain nothing from this story but the pure enjoyment of putting this idea out there. I don't have any power over the show, it's wonderful characters, or franchise and take no gratuity in return.

Dean rushed over to the side of the road where the sharp edge of the Impala's metallic bumper slide off of the hillside. He'd only stopped to take a leek and had made a snide remark in Sam's general direction that he'd let sleeping beauty rest while he went to take care of mans business in the dingy little rest stop bathroom. He'd barley unzipped his fly and set his plan into motion when a loud crash and the unmistakable crunch of metal colliding with metal. At first he'd thought nothing of it, a crash on the passing highway, to speed clutched truckers trying to make it to their next drop off with no sleep and too many truck stop burgers, but something deep inside him told him it was more.

Quickly Dean zipped up his tattered jeans and fled the tiny wooden enclosure, his eye's just catching the last bit of his prized Chevy Impala as it slipped off the ledge. Instinctively he looked around expecting to see Sam standing stunned at the side of the scene trying to come up with a quick story as to what happened and why he hadn't stopped it, but Sam wasn't there. A deep chill radiated down Dean's spine and his heart dropped to his knees. An instant later pure adrenaline took over and his feet propelled him towards the now steaming hood of a black Ford f-250 resting perpendicularly to where the Impala had been only moments earlier. The only sign there'd been any altercation at all; the trucks crinkled bumper and a piece of the Impala's quarter panel laying next to the broken guardrail at the edge of the parking space.

Saaaaaammmmmm! Dean screamed his voice grinding the gravel around him from its shear terror and intensity. He feared what he would see once he reached the edge. He mentally kicked himself for not checking the distance when he'd parked, but he'd been so focused on peeing he hadn't paid attention.

The driver of the 250 staggered from his door, blood trickling down his tan polo shirt. "What the hell…The man stated his eyes unfocussed. I think I hit a dam dear." At that he chucked and shook his head.

Dean could practically smell the vodka radiating off him as he spoke. He had to fight every instinct he had not to grab the bastards neck and twist putting him out of his misery for his blatant disregard for other people, but didn't as his main concern was his brother, who at the moment was nowhere in sight. The second he reached the break in the guardrail he froze to afraid he'd only see a gathering of harsh black sea rocks and a whisp of fresh Oregon ocean surf on the other side. No sign of his car and more importantly what it held inside

With a shattered breath and a prayer to the God Sam believed existed, Dean peered over the edge and practically fell to his shaking knees as the impala rested only twelve feet down nestled in a collection of sand and softened sea wood.

Dean quickly pushed past the driver of the truck and nosey onlookers ignoring the steep drop off and practically flew to the passenger side of the car. Did Sammy have his seat belt on? Was he awake? Was he ok? Everything ran through Dean's mind as he slid down the side and stuck his boots in sinking sand. The car was at a 45 degree angel propped precariously against the hill side and the ground below.

To Deans relieved pleasure Sam was shaking his head and struggling to right himself as Dean grasped the door handle and yanked it open. "Sam! Sammy", he bellowed waiting for him to give any signs he was ok. Sam had a large cut on his right temple and blood decorating his button down shirt and new pair of jeans he'd bought after the last hunt destroyed his other pair. He seemed dazed but coherent and Dean couldn't help but display the smile of relief he had all over his face. "Sammy you ok man, some drunk of piece of shit just shoved your skinny ass off the side of the hill. You scared the shit out of me, man."

Sam's eyes flew wide open at the sound of his brothers voice. They were unfocussed and sluggish, but clear and pristine. He'd felt the collision, had only a fraction of a second to react, and had tried to unbuckle his seat belt and flee the car as he felt it go over. The next thing he knew his head was pressed into the dashboard, his face was bleeding, and his brothers voice was assaulting his ears.

Sam turned to greet his brother but found something else beat him to it. There were sounds all around him, placating his stinging senses but there was no light, no shapes, no lop sided backwards grin on Deans face. Only darkness and his brother now escalating freighted voice. Invisible hands pulled him sideways and slipped him out of the car. It was then, when he knew he should have seen Deans face, that the panic out weighed the pain and he freaked out.

"Sammy what, what is it. You ok man, you're scaring me, say something man, dam it Sam what!" Dean demanded worry now dripping from every syllable. "Dean, Sam began tentatively. I, I can't see. I can't see Dean. Oh my fucking God, Dean. Sam grabbed Deans shirt with hidden strength. Dean I can's see!"

**A/N:** Please be gentle this is my first fanfic EVER that I've actually written down and submitted. I'm still trying to figure out the system and see if anybody even wants to read what I have to write. I would appreciate reviews for or against and would love any and all ideas or suggestions. I'm writing this on a whim so it may need some fine tuning when I'm not so tired. If you would like to read more let me know and I'll continue my story. Thanks in advance and thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter two:**_

_**Summary: **__Sam and Dean are on a hunt for a garden variety ghost when a drunk driver derails their plans and may just change their lives forever. Sam suffers a debilitating injury and Dean is left to pick up the pieces._

_**Disclaimer: **__I own nothing, I gain nothing from this story but the pure enjoyment of putting this idea out there. I don't have any power over the show, it's wonderful characters, or franchise and take no gratuity in return._

_Dean's mouth instantly drained of all moisture, his tongue the spitting image of sun dried cotton as words stick to the back of his clenched throat. He took a breath to settle his mounting shock. "Ok Sammy just stay calm, don't freak, ok." Dean patted his pocket for his cell phone and realized almost instantly he'd left it in his jacket which, at the moment, was somewhere inside his upturned vehicle. Sam's deep brown eyes, wide and terrified, pierced Dean's soul with their unfocused gaze. _

"_I need somebody to call 911, my brothers hurt!" Dean shouted above to the growing group of onlookers collecting at the edge. A women in her mid thirties with a wild mop of curly brown hair and an orange Sea Lion Caves t-shirt called down to him, waving her phone in the air. "I've already called, I'm speaking with 911 right now. The dispatcher wants to know if your brother is having any difficulties breathing or staying conscious?" "Dean please, Sam pleaded. I don't want them to know I can't see, don't tell her, Dean, please." Dean patted Sam's shoulder. "I won't bro, just stay calm ok and sit down. You don't need to be moving around right now you could hurt yourself." Dean directed his little brother to a dark, smooth piece of petrified log resting inches from the passenger side door, both the boys feet sinking further into the damp sand as they moved. His heart seized as Sam's hands fumbled for the remarkably soft surface of the trunk and a tether to the ground below. __Oh God, Dean thought, this can't be happening, please don't let this be happening_.

Dean shook his head and glanced at the women above. "No, tell them he's conscious and breathing just fine, he swallowed a lump of anxiety trapped in his throat, but tell them to hurry he has a…" Sam's right hand flailed and grabbed his brothers bicep tightly. "Don't tell them Dean, Please." "I won't Sam, I told you that." Dean snapped, his tone tense and more harsh then he would have liked but his brother needed to keep calm and was making it hard for him to focus on helping him. "Tell them my brother hit his head on the dash and it's bleeding." "Ok. She called putting the phone back to her ear.

A few seconds later the shrill sound of sirens filled the air and Dean could see their glowing red lights reflecting off the crowd and sand around him. He imagined this was the same thing his brother experienced when they'd been pulled from the car after the demon possessing the semi had crashed into them. He had thought about that day a lot since then. How close they'd all come to dying. He figured Sam had probably thought the worst, being the only one awake, he'd probably felt the same kind of pain and worry that Dean did right now. The one main difference, this time, that Sam was coherent and scared he could be disabled.

Sam instinctively looked up, in unbridled anticipation, as two twenty something men came racing down the foot path precariously hiding a few feet from where the car had slid over. The crisp rattling of rescue equipment and shrill passing of air as they ran alerting him to their approaching presence. "I hear something Dean." Sam breathed. "The ambulance here?" Silently nodding his head Dean realized his brother was lost to the action, and he managed to choke out a "yes."

As the men met them at the bottom, Dean realized the tide was starting to come in, another wave of panic hitting him. "The tides coming in, can't we go somewhere else? My brother can't see, we need to leave here!" One of the men glanced out at the water still several meters away. "It's ok, it'll be at least an hour before it gets to us. You guys, the car, and all these spectators will be long gone before it makes it to this point, trust me I've lived along time and know this beach."

Dean grabbed his brother's arm securely and forced his worry to settle at the back of his mind as the medics surrounded them both. From that instant on, the rescuers took control and pushed Dean to the side forcing him to let go of his brother as they assessed his injury's.

Questions floated around in the salty sea air as answers where expected from both of the boys. It gave Dean focus on something other then Sam while he was pocked and prodded.

"What's your name?" "Dean."

"What's your name, sir?" An invisible hand rested on Sam's shoulder. "S, Sam."

"What happened?" "Car was hit."

"You guys live around here?" "No."

"Where are you hurt?" That question stopped the obedient on slot of mindless answers and Sam froze. He choked on his reply. "I, I um, my head. It hurts. I can't. I can't." The hand patted his shoulder again and lost contact. "You can't see, we know. My partner Jack here is just going to look in your eye's, hold still for us, ok?" Sam nodded and grabbed Dean's arm fervently while the taller man shined a small beam of crisp light into his eyes. The other guy, the one belonging to the disembodied hand, clutched a clip board and jotted down Sam's BP, heart rate, and stat's on his report.

Before either brother knew what was going on, they where being lead into the back of the Ambulance and were on their way to some coastal Oregon hospital. As they pulled out of the rest area Dean caught a rickety brown tow truck pulling his beloved Impala from it's resting place in the sparkling, golden sand below. The medic had been right, they were out of there before the tide came in. That only gave him momentary comfort as he glanced back at his brother staring straight at him, but not seeing him at all.

******************************

Dean was tired of waiting, tired of sitting in this dam plastic chair. Watching medical personal pass in and out of the very door they'd forbid him from entering. Thankfully the staff had aloud Dean to stay with his brother through the preliminary exams and further assessments of other injuries, but once it was determined that Sam needed a CAT scan and MRI, Dean was shuffled out into the imaging waiting room and told he would not be aloud to follow his brother while he was tested. That was over an hour ago, and now Dean was beginning to loose his composure and restraint.

Every time he tried to ask the lady at the admitting desk where Sam was and if he was done, she gave the same mind numbingly annoying answer; "you'll know as soon as I know, now please sir go sit back down." Her long slender finger directing him to his tattered plastic chair resting in the corner providing him full view of both the admitting desk and the doorway. Not even Dean's attempt at Winchester charm seemed to sway the young nurse or change her answer.

If somebody didn't let him know what was going on with Sam soon, he was gonn'a loose it and the last thing he needed was to be put in jail for assault while Sam was lying, _blind_ in some backwoods country hospital.

He couldn't take it anymore. Every nerve in his body was firing and he wanted a dam straightforward answer, NOW. He stood up and started to walk to the swinging doors with the sign on them reading '**Hospital Personal Only**'when an older man with stark black hair and a long white doctors coat emerged from them.

"Is there a Dean Singer here?" He asked quickly glancing at the four men scattered around the sparse waiting area. Before Dean could respond the girl at the admitting desk spoke up. "Oh yes, Dr. Miller, he's standing right there." Her long finger singling Dean out immediately. He's very anxious to speak with you. Good luck Dr. Miller he doesn't take no for an answer very easily." She finished, rolling her eyes visibly relieved to have Dean removed. Dean shot her an angry glare and then focused his attention on this doctor that knew his name, well his current name anyway.

"I'm Dean Singer. He stated extending his hand. How's my brother, are you the one that did the test's?" Doctor Singer smiled a weak, non-reassuring smile. "I am. Your brother is being taken up to room 342. I have to finish some paperwork up down here and then I'll meet you in his room with the results and my prognosis." A cold shiver radiated down Deans tired spine. "You can't tell me now? He's being admitted?" The doctor smiled once more and shook his head. "I would prefer you and your brother both hear the same thing. If you go down this hall and turn right you'll see an elevator. 342 is on the third floor. Once you get out of the elevator turn right and it will be the fourth door on the right. If you have any trouble finding it just ask a staff member. We're a pretty small hospital, anyone will be able to direct you to the right place."

Sam's room was indeed where the doctor had said it would be. As Dean walked off the elevator the memory of Dr. Miller's side stepping really bothered him. Had something happened to Sammy while he was forced to wait out in that dam waiting room. Was their something the doctor was to chicken to tell him in a room full of people? Dean shook his head and pressed the handle on his brothers hospital room door. Before the day was over, Dean was sure he was going to deck somebody he just didn't know who the lucky person would be yet.

Inside his brother was washed in a blanket of bright afternoon luminosity. The sun shinning precariously through the drawn shades on the big bay window centering the room. Sam's clothes had been removed and replaced with a faded blue hospital gown and a white terrycloth robe. He was gripping an IV pole standing at attention next to him feeding his veins clear, wet liquid from a plastic bag. Sam was sitting on the edge of the only bed staring out the window oblivious to the light around him. Dean's heart momentarily halted at the scene. How would Sammy survive if this was permanent. How would either of them survive?

"Dean?" Sam asked turning towards the door and sound of heavy feet hitting the hard linoleum below them. Dean's voice froze in his throat of a second and then he seemed to recover it. "Yeah, Sammy, how'd you know? Are your eye's better?" His last statement soaked in hope and fear. Sam shook his head. "Ah no, he blinked, I just knew it was you. You smell, it's hard to get past." There was a forced smile on Sam's face and Dean knew he was seconds away from loosing his composure. "And by the was, big brother, it's Sam, not Sammy. I'm not twelve years old, remember." Dean chuckled and made his way over to the bed his brother rested on. Sam could feel the mattress shift as the older hunter sat down.

"How you feeling, _Saaammm_?" He stated making sure Sam was aware of the last word. Sam shook his head. "Like dog shit, my head hurts, my body hurts, and well, he waved his hand in front of his face, you know the rest."

"Yeah, I do."

"Any word as to when my doctor's supposed to give me the verdict"

"How about now." A deep voice radiated from the entrance of the room. Both Sam and Dean looked towards the noise.

"Sam, it's Dr. Miller again, your neurologist, I've gone over the scans and I have an answer for you and your brother. Ready to hear what we've found?" "Yes!" Was the unilateral answer from both Winchesters.

"Sam, you have some swelling in your brain. The doctor noticed instantly the shock and concern plastered on both men's faces. He continued. "We're giving you anti-inflammatory's to reduce that and I expect it to subside fairly quickly."

"Is that what's causing his blindness?" Dean interrupted, his voice strained and worn. "Yes and no." The doctor stated plainly.

"Sam, the swelling is from a rupture of a blood vessel in your brain, now, the drugs are controlling that and I don't see any surgery in your future, however, there has been some damage and that is what is causing your vision loss. Your eyes are fine, no damages, no injuries but the portion of your brain that supports the intersection of your optic nerves has been disrupted. The pressure from the bleeding caused swelling near your optic chiasm and stopped the viable flow of blood carrying nutrients to your optic nerves." He paused letting the information soak in.

"You have a condition called Cortical Blindness. Usually this condition results in vision loss in only one eye or only portions of both, but your injury was centered at the bridge where both Optic nerves cross in the brain. The damage effected both of them and is what is causing your total loss of vision.

Sam turned a whole new shade of grey with that portion of the doctors explanation. He had brain damage? His optic chiasm? Swelling? He tried to shake his brain clear. "I, is it…will it go away." His brow creased and his disturbingly clear puppy dog eyes revealed just how frightened he really was.

"Is this permanent?" Dean locked eye's with Dr. Miller and his stomach flopped at the physicians sagging facial features. He was glad his brother couldn't see the look on the mans face.

Dr. Miller took a deep breath, not missed by the older brother, and continued. "With brain damage there is always the chance that it can be permanent, I wouldn't be a responsible physician if I didn't tell you that, but I'm not sure. There is a chance you could recover all of your vision, some of it, or none at all. Only time will tell what the final outcome will be. We need to wait for the swelling to go down and for your brain and optic nerves to relax. We should have a definitive answer with in the next few months."

Sam's body slumped and Deans eyes widened to the size of saucers. "You won't know if my brothers going stay this way for a _couple of months_." He used quotation marks to accentuate that last bit. Dean stood up and began to pace the room. "Dam mid-evil doctors. I want, we want a second opinion!" He spattered clenching his fists with pent up rage, fear, and disappointment. Sam reached for Deans hand but failed miserably as he was already across the room.

Dr. Miller smiled, understanding the boy's frustrations. "You are more then welcome to a second or third opinion, Mr. Singer, and I would encourage that, really. But for now you need to calm down. The last thing your brother needs is more stress and turmoil right now."

"Are you ok Sam, do you have any other questions?" Sam silently shook his head, the doctors news still to fresh in his screaming mind. He cleared the cobweb's from his thoughts and replied. "Just one, I guess, how long do I have to stay here? How long do I have to be hospitalized?"

Dr. Miller shrugged his shoulders, keeping one eye on Dean as he did. "It should take a few hours for the anti-inflammatory's to work so I'd say sometime tomorrow afternoon. Other then the med's and more scans down the road, there's nothing else we can do for you, so, you'll be released relatively quickly. Dr. Miller put his hand on Sam's goose bumped arm. "I know this is a lot to stomach but there is hope. Cortical blindness can reverse it's self. Maybe not to the extent of before but even that's not out of the question. Just try to get some rest and I'll make sure to have one of my nurses supply you and your brother with some brochures on rehab facilities and therapy for the blind. Whether this goes away, lessons, or stay the same, your going to need to change a few things and get some training. I'm sorry my news couldn't be more reassuring but I don't want to give you false hope."

"Dr. Miller…Dean began but Sam cut him off. "Don't Dean ok, the doctors just being honest with me." Sam looked in the direction the deep thundering voice of the doc was coming from. "Thanks for the information, Dr. Miller. If you don't mind, though, I'd like to have a little down time with my brother."

"Of course," the doctor replied. He turned towards Dean. "Mr. Singer…" Dean interrupted him. "It's Dean doc and ah, sorry for earlier. It's be one hell of a long day." Dr. Miller slapped Dean's back. "That it has, son. I'll have Sam's nurse bring in that information and get them to bring you one of those reclining chairs for visitors. I have a feeling your not going to be leaving anytime soon, am I right?" Dean shook his head no. "Ok then I'd say, Dr's advice, that both you and your brother get some rest then. You both look exhausted and that won't help this situation one bit." With that the doctor was gone and Sam and Dean Winchester were left to face the giant demon shadowing the room and cloaking them in an un-ending blanket of uncertainty.

A/N: Ok I know this is one really really long chapter, I hadn't expected it to run quite as long as it did, but wanted to get past the explanation and onto the next phase of the story. I have a little twist that I will hint at in the next few chapters. I hope that you enjoy and are entertained with what is to come. Thanks so very much for all of your reviews and comments. As always let me know if there's something I missed or something you'd like to see put in or explained and I'll do my best to put it in. Have a wonderful weekend and happy new year!


	3. Chapter 3

_**Summary**__**: **__Sam and Dean are on a hunt for a garden variety ghost when a drunk driver derails their plans and may just change their lives forever. Sam suffers a debilitating injury and Dean is left to pick up the pieces._

_**Disclaimer:**__ I own nothing, I gain nothing from this story but the pure enjoyment of putting this idea out there. I don't have any power over the show, it's wonderful characters, or franchise and take no gratuity in return._

_**Chapter Three:**_

_The silence in the room was deafening. Neither brother knew what to say or how to react to what they'd been told. Dean stood next to the window, staring at the various visual impairment and resource brochures Nurse Christy had brought over 20 minutes earlyer. They were resting on the window sill where she'd left them, untouched, and since then, the subject hadn't been approached. _

_Dean glanced over at Sam and instantly met his un-seeing eyes. A cold chill ran up his arms, igniting goose bumps, and radiated down his spine. __What if Sam was going to stay this way? Blind? Helpless? Shut away in a darkness only he could know?_ His brother's eyes were just as bright and brilliant as the first day he'd seen their mother holding him. Even if he and Sam hadn't spent so much time together growing up and he didn't know him as well as he did, Dean was sure he'd know exactly what the kid was thinking just by looking into those big bold orbs.

Sam's driver's license, even his police profile, described his eyes as brown but that was just a cop out. Really they were a vibrant hazel. A tint of green and a smattering of auburn resulting in an obscurely mesmerizing mixture. Quietly, Dean thanked God his brothers eyes weren't damaged. Even if he stayed blind for the rest of his life, he wouldn't be treated like a circus freak ogled and stared at. Milky white eyes, the topic of onlookers remorse or reproach. If for nothing else, Dean was glad Sam would be spared that degradation.

The younger Winchester was great at hiding things like secrets and identities, but his emotions always shown straight through his expressive eyes no matter how well he tried to hide them. Dean figured that was why all the girls melted around his brother without him having to try or even flash a convincing smile to make them turn to pudding. Sam had a natural charm that even he couldn't argue away. What really irked Dean was the fact that Sam didn't use it, he wasted it, and that alone was enough to cause a smack on the back of the head every now and again.

Sam always amazed his brother, those big, soulful eyes and a resounding innocence he held onto even though his life had, had very little. Now though, the windows to Sam's soul, as some called them, were simply lost and full of pain. They betrayed him, broadcasting loud and clear how he was feeling with out any filter what so ever. Dean doubted he even realized he was doing it. Sam no longer had that visual barometer to gage the world around him, his visual cues and stimulus robbed from him by some drunk hick in a button down polo shirt.

Unbridled rage made Dean's blood boil at the memory of the words that man had carelessly spewed after slipping awkwardly from his truck. _"I think I hit a dear."_ What kind of person said that? Even if they were drunk? Who would be so far gone not to realize they'd just harmed another human being? Let alone pushed a car over a ledge? If it was the last thing Dean did, he would make that piece of shit pay for hurting his little brother. For _blinding_ him. For taking one more thing from a kid who really didn't have anything good left to hold on to. That was a promise Dean had made to himself the moment they'd pulled away from that rest stop, Sam strapped to a gurney, fear lacing his brows as the blindness suffocated him. One final look out the window showed Dean a man being put in handcuffs, their eyes momentarily meeting, but it wouldn't be the last he saw of the Winchesters. That was a promise Dean made then and there and he would keep it at all costs.

Sam was as good as they came and that was one of many reasons this was so dam cruel. He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve something else being thrust in his lap after everything he'd already endured.

Sam's strength and longevity was a great source of pride for Dean, feeling he had something to do with it. It was the pride of both a brother and a father that Dean wore like a badge. If nothing else in his life, he could say he'd had a hand in Sam's humanity. Even if he lacked it in many ways himself.

There was already so much pain and turmoil Sam had been through; his childhood, the drill sergeant upbringing their father subscribed to, never having an actual home or mother to soften the harsh blows of life, _their life_, being infected with demon blood, the constant thrumming in the back of his mind that evil lurked at the fringe of his being, cold oak, Dean's death and subsequent rebirth! Sam had enough for twelve lifetimes before some random accident took yet another thing from him. Dean really wasn't sure just how much more his sibling could take before he broke. Cracked like a fragile glass statue. The fact that he hadn't already was a God dammed miracle in its own right.

The silence overwhelmed Dean like a title wave, shoving the oxygen from his lungs and pressing him to the floor, he couldn't stand it anymore. His brother, the one that never seemed to shut up, the one that always wanted to express his feelings and push the proverbial (emotional) envelope, was unnaturally quite. Lost somewhere inside the recesses of his own head. There was no sign, what so ever, that the situation was going to change anytime soon so Dean decided he'd break the silence and speak up instead. Oh the irony he thought quietly.

"Sammy, you ok over there? I haven't heard you this quiet since before you could talk." Dean laughed, a memory tugging at the edge of his consciousness. "And even then you were anything but quiet. Mom, dad, and I didn't sleep for two months after you came home from the hospital. I was ready puncture my eardrums with a crayon." Dean's face lit up in a mischievous smirk. Mint green eye's sparkling with the recollection.

Sam shifted on his bed. He'd slide up against the pillows after the doctor had left and proceeded to stare off at a wall, speaking only when spoken to from that point on.

"Yeah, Dean." He stated, simply, pulling the pathetic lumpy wafe of a pillow up around his knotted shoulders. "My head hurts like a bitch, but I'm ok. Sam tugged at the tape concealing the intravenous medication feeding his hungry veins. "Just can't wait to get this dam I.V. out of my arm, itches like a fricken bitch."

Dean shook his head and grabbed the pamphlets off the ledge. He took a seat on the hard plastic chair sandwiched in between Sam's bed and the windowsill. "I wasn't talking about that Sammy, I mean, not entirely anyway. He shrugged. You told the doctor you wanted some time with me but you haven't said anything other than _I'm fine _in over an hour."

Sam's eyebrows creased, causing his forehead to wrinkle. He heaved a large, worn sigh. "What is there to say Dean, I mean, really? He waved his free hand in the air. "I can't see. Could be permanent, could be temporary, or it could be somewhere in-between." Sam's words were increasing in validity. "I can't hunt, can't drive…He shed a harsh laugh, hell I can't even find my way out of a paper bag, let alone this dam room. What the fuck am I supposed to say? It sucks? Well dude, yeah," *another smirk* "it defiantly sucks! Looking forward to my big brother leading me around like a Pomeranian, shopping for me, picking out my dam underwear?"

Sam took a ragged breath, "People staring at the blind guy as I walk around with a white cane. Practically wearing a neon sign broadcasting HANDICAPPED across my forehead really doesn't make me feel very happy, Dean. Would it, you?"

Typical Sammy, Dean thought, trying to digest his brothers frustrated words. Tight as a clam if something really bothered him, but once the invitation was given, it was an all out flood. _**Diarrhea of the mouth **_as he'd pointed out several times to his younger sibling. And that was exactly what Dean was waiting for. What he needed to hear. What, he knew, Sammy needed to do for himself. As well as something for Dean to be reassured his brother was in there, somewhere. That he hadn't just shut down and turned in on himself like he did when Jessica died.

It was a comfort and a punch to the gut to hear Sam's frustration and anger finally boil to the surface. To irrevocably comprehend how he was really dealing with the prospect of terminal blindness.

"The doctor said you could get _all_ your vision back, Sammy. I don't think we should give up just yet, you know? I mean, come on dude, it hasn't even been twenty four hours. You could wake up tomorrow and be just fine."

"And if I'm not, Dean, then what?" Sam asked his voice harsh and drawn. Dean shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, man. But we'll figure it out like we always do. By the seat of our pants." A guarded smirk. "I'll search this entire planet for an answer, supernatural or not. There's got to be somebody out there that can help you and the one good thing about being a Winchester is that we have the connections to find them."

Sam bit his lip and wiped his hand over his face. "Never give up, is that it? When did you become the eternal optimist?"

Dean paused for a moment choosing his words carefully. With a breath of hot, frustrated air he replied. "When a dammed angel pulled me out of hell and my little brother went blind." He swallowed the bile resting at the back of his throat as the word lingered there. _Blind_

"Did you give up on me Sammy when the doctors gave me a month to live? Because I distinctly remember signing myself out of the hospital to die in peace and finding you glued to your computer screen. With no sleep, I might add, looking for a way to save me and you know what? You did. Do you think for one second that I wouldn't do the same for you? I get, I can be a selfish ass, but come on Sam you're the only family I have left. Hell, Sammy, you and Bobby are the only two people on this planet I really care about. You're my brother, Man, I went to hell to save your skinny ass for god's sake. This is a cake walk. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you even if I don't just come out and spill it like some melodramatic chick. And we'll find something to fix this. I promise."

Sam smiled, the first real smile Dean had seen since this whole ordeal had begun. "You are such a drama queen, Dean, what the hell happened to you in Hell anyway. Your like an after school special. Now who's being a girl?"

Dean glared at Sam and hurled the brochures at him. Sam jumped at the onslaught and glared. The surprise evident on his face.

"Jerk." He bellowed.

"Bitch." Dean finished, a small, relieved smile spreading across his face.

And that was that, the giant purple elephant in the room had been drawn and quartered. The tension, uncertainty, and embarrassment replaced by slight relief and a much needed subject change. A push past the unknown into what could be controlled in the here and now.

"So what are you going to do about the car? Don't tell me the cops have it, Dean, b'cuz that could cause some unneeded attention? What about the stuff in the trunk, don't you think you should go take care of that? I won't flat line while your gone, scouts honor." Sam put his free hand on his chest mocking a two fingered salute.

Dean shook his head then realized it was lost on his baby brother. "Called Bobby while you were in Radiology. He should be here before midnight. Had a hunt up in Washington so he's pretty close. He's got a hunter friend over here that owns a repair shop, names Jake. One call from Bobby and it was all being taken care of. The guys fixing it as we speak. I guess Bobby saved his ass a while back and Jack owed him one…or ten." Dean smirked. "I spoke to the guy and he said the damage isn't that bad, should be fixed by tomorrow if he can get his hands on the right parts."

Sam's eye's flew wide open, a quizzical expression flooding his face. "Your letting somebody else work on your car, Dean? Are you sure I was the only one in the Impala when it went over, cuz it sounds like you might have a head injury too."

"Don't be a dick, Sammy, I wasn't gonn'a work on the car while you were in here. Besides Bobby said he handle it and I trust him."

There was a rattle outside and a girl in peach scrubs and a blue apron knocked on the door. "Dinner for Sam Singer?" Her voice was soft, smooth, almost feathery Sam thought to himself.

"Come on in" Dean shouted his smile big and boisterous. The girl, in her late teens, with dark auburn hair tied in a velvet clip took a tray off the cart she was pushing and placed it on the side table connected to Sam's bed. Then proceeded to pull it over his lap. "Is there anything else I can get for you?" She asked timidly. Sam shook his head and put his hand on the table searching it for the contents. "No thanks I think I got it from here." With a quiet smile she was gone.

"She was _**hot**_, dude, wish you could have seen her." Sam rolled his eyes as his fingers searched the tray. "Dean, she sounded like she was about sixteen. You'd be in jail. We really do need to work on you deciphering porn from reality. You have a problem. I'm thinking counseling might be your only hope."

Dean smiled, "nah she's thirty at least." He joked knowing full well Sam didn't buy it for a second. "So Sammy." Dean snatched a piece of bread off Sam's dinner plate just as Sam's hand had located it and shoved it in his mouth. "How hungry are you anyway."

Sam could hear his brothers jowls slapping together as he consumed the starch. He could hear the food squishing as his brother spoke. "Not really all that much, Sam made a disgusted face, "guess it's good I have you to eat it for me huh, Dean?" Sam's remark was laced with brotherly distaste and lined with humor. Under his breath he continued. "Ya big pig."

Dean shoved Sam's arm and grabbed another piece of bread out of his hands. "I'm not a pig, Sammy, you're just anorexic. Although, Dean shrugged, this whole blindness thing could work in my favor if you can't get to your food before I can. I'm going to be eating like a champ for the next couple of weeks."

"It's SAM Dean, how many times do I have to tell you that before you get it?"

This time it was Dean that rolled his eye's. "You can tell me as much as you want, little brother, but if I feel like calling ya, Sammy, I will. I'm the oldest, by birth right that ball's in my court."

Sam sighed and located a plastic cup of some sort at the edge of his plate. It was cool to the touch and flexibly ridged, but other then that, Sam was baffled.

"What the hell is this? He asked gripping the weirdly shaped object.

Dean wrinkled his nose. "Some kind of Jell'O, I think." He jiggled it under Sam's grasp. "Or toxic waste, can't really tell at the moment. It's blue." Dean's brows furrowed. Who eats blue Jell'O?"

Sam shoved it towards his brothers voice. "You, ya pig. Have a blast." Dean smirked once again, grabbed the plastic cup, and landed in the recliner still resting in the corner of the room. "Uuummm, he mocked taking a giant bite, "just like gramma used to make."

Sam sneered and continued to search the plate. Dean shoved more Jell'O in his mouth and spoke with portions of blue slime oozing from his lips. "Mashed potatoes at three, Chicken at ten, and a nice large helping of, Dean's lips curdled, broccoli at your six. Your forks on the right side of the tray and your soda's in a cup with a lid and straw on the left."

"I smell something sweet Dean what are you forgetting?"

Rolling his eyes he conceded. "There's brownie up above the plate, but if you loved me, and considering I haven't had anything but rotgut coffee from a thirty year old vending machine, I'd think you'd give it to me. I did go to Hell for you after all the least you could do is surrender your brownie."

Closing his eyes momentarily to keep in the laughter Sam reached the brownie and tossed it in the direction of Dean's food filled responses. He heard his brother scramble to his feet and the squeaking of rubber souls as they came to a halt.

"Sneaky little brother, very sneaky, but I'm to good for that. Next time try something a little," Dean shoved the hole brownie in his mouth, "mooore or'ig'on'all." He finished a brazen smile decorating his stubbled face. There were remnants of brown sugary globs clinging to his lips.

"Dean one of these day's I'm going to teach you how to eat with your mouth closed, if it's the last thing I do." Both brothers laughed and spent the next few minutes delighting in their own self contained humor and harmless needling.

A/n: Sorry this has taken me soooooooo long to get out, my husband lost his job and we've been back pedaling ever since. I tried make this update longer to compensate. I am so grateful for the reviews and hope that you will stick with me and this story until the end. Whenever that may be. Thanks for reading and I'll talk to you soon. Next chapter Bobby and some hints to what's laying in wait.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary****: **Sam and Dean are on a hunt for a garden variety ghost when a drunk driver derails their plans and may just change their lives forever. Sam suffers a debilitating injury and Dean is left to pick up the pieces.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, I gain nothing from this story but the pure enjoyment of putting this idea out there. I don't have any power over the show, it's wonderful characters, or franchise and take no gratuity in return.

**Chapter four:**

The room was quiet, save the unmistakable sound of wet snoring off to his left. It was about time Dean got some sleep, Sam thought, shifting under his thin, sanitized covers. The bed, if you could call it that, was lumpy and unnaturally stiff. The product of mechanical interference. Hidden hydraulics and mechanized gears the main makeup of it's skeletal structure.

He had stayed in a lot of dingy hotel rooms in his lifetime, decorated with shoty bedding and thin mattresses, but even the worst paled in comparison to the hospital. No matter where the hospital was, each one had the same nauseating amenities and attributes. His blankets and pillows were nothing more then overrated cheese clothes. Used and washed to the brink of extinction.

Sam hated hospitals for many reasons. Sure, with the job, the Winchesters had been subjected to quite a few in their travels and he knew he wasn't alone in his distaste, but what really made Sam's stomach turn each time he came across one, was the knowledge that not everybody that entered, came back out again. Both a comforting recollection and a disturbing one, the occupants were there for natural reason's rather then that of supernatural interference and he would be the first to admit it bothered him. Sam could only remember once or twice he had been a tenant for something other then supernatural intervention, however, so that to was a crucial factor.

Their whole lives, the brothers had sought to save human life, to eliminate the unnatural threat of evil hanging in the shadows. That's what they'd been raised to do, honed and conditioned for. Knowing that a hospital, advertised as a safe haven to _heal,_ was actually the harbinger of _death_ made Sam terribly un-comfortable and unavoidably edgy. A feeling which only worsened after the Impala was demolished by a demon controlled semi and he'd been faced with loosing, not one, but both, of his remaining family members.

The sting of seeing his father, the great John Winchester, crumpled and helpless, on the dirty hospital linoleum was still so fresh in Sam's mind, it haunted his dreams with unrelenting persistence. The recollection sent chills down his spine each time he accessed the memories, something Sam had been continually combating ever since he arrived at his newest place of residence. Even if he couldn't see the surroundings; the noises and smells brought forth the memories and kept them at the forefront of his thoughts.

There was a loud, fluid filled snork from the snoring mass off to Sam's left and it quickly brought his attention back to the present. Suddenly, as if someone had slapped him in the face, he realized the smell radiating off this person, wasn't that of his brother. It was similar, but unmistakably different. There was a musty quality to it and a distinct hint of something else, what he couldn't quite place.

Sam prayed when he opened his eyes he'd see something; light or shapes or anything other than the darkness he'd grown so accustomed to over the last few hours. Anything just so he could identify who was in the room with him. He took a slow breath and opened his lids. The disappointment radiated throughout his body like an electric shock as he realized his situation was unchanged.

Sam's body visibly tensed. Who was this person? He mentally cursed his useless eyes. Where was his brother? He could only sense, feel, hear, smell, _whatever_, one person in the room and he was sure, now, it wasn't Dean. Was it a demon laying in wait for its opportunity to torture him while he was conscious to feel the pain? Was it…Sam froze momentarily as the person, _thing_, roused.

There was a guttural growl as what Sam assumed was a chair, creaked underneath its occupants uneven weight. Sam was desperate for something, anything to protect himself with, but was quickly assured he was nothing more than a sitting duck. Exposed and helpless to what ever had just woken up.

"Sam good to see ya awake kid. Dean thought you were gonna sleep all dam day." A gruff, gravely voice announced shattering the mystery.

A smile immediately filled Sam's relaxing features. The smell, the one he couldn't pin point just then, was oil, sulfur, and gun powder. An odd mixture for anybody not in his line of work, but for him, a familiar and comforting aroma.

"Bobby." Sam expressed, relief clear as the vibrant sapphire sky outside. "Where's Dean? What time is it?"

Bobby cleared his raspy throat. He glanced down at his wrist and located the watch resting securely on the crick of his arm. "Ten Thirty four. And your bro…" Sam cut him off.

"Thought you weren't gonna be here until after mid-night Bobby? How'd you get here so dam fast, what'd ya do fly?" Sam didn't mean _**fly**_ in the literal since, of course, but still that would have made more since to him then the confusion currently running through his brain.

Bobby chuckled quietly to himself. It was easy to see Sam's puzzlement in his creased brow and wrinkled forehead. The kid's face was so dam expressive. His facial features like an open book to anybody who knew how to read it.

"It's ten thirty in the morning Sam, I got here around one last night. Took quite a bit of convincing but I finally got your brother to go see Jake and check on the Impala. Besides, Bobby shrugged, you needed something to wear once you were released so I told him he should go get your bag. Tried to remind him you only had a blood stained shirt and jeans. Didn't think the hospital gown they gave ya would work, even if it is hot as hell outside."

Sam shook his head trying to process what he'd just been told, absentmindedly touching his current outfit. It was morning? Bobby had been here for hours? Dean had left?

Bobby sensed Sam's inner dilemma and continued. "I had to push your dam idiot brother out the door. Kid thinks you'll fall apart with out him nipping at your heels. Although, considering how the two of you are when your separated, I can see his point. When I got here you were dead to the world. Your brother Dean was barely conscious in this dam lounge chair determined to not nod off. And your doctor had just removed your IV since you finished the last of the meds."

_He had_, Sam thought subconsciously. He touched his arm expecting to find the IV but found only a small bandage in it's place.

"I guess your brother, sneaky son of a bitch, convinced them to slip ya something in the IV after dinner so you'd get some sleep. He was afraid you'd try to stay awake for him. Doc thought it was a good idea and had one of the nurses slip you a mickie."

Sam shook his head half in disgust, half in complacency. Yep that was his big brother, always the deviant. Dean's way or the highway using the "I'm older" card as a defense. If he couldn't get Sam to comply by asking, he'd do what he had to, to insure his safety whether Sam liked it or not. _Dick_. He quietly thought, his mind a carnival of disdain and admiration for his manipulative older brother.

"So how long's my big pain in the ass brother been gone anyway?"

Bobby let out a strangled chuckle. "Oh bout ten minutes I'd guess. I practically had to pry his hands off the dammed door frame. You two boys are the stubbornness pains in my ass I've ever come across. Worse then two year olds or Mule demons. Bunch of igits." He finished under his breath.

That caused a chuckle to escape Sam's lips. Mule demons were close to tricksters in their arrogance and disregard for authority, but what made them worse was that no matter what you did, or tried to do to them, they wouldn't budge. It was their way or the highway just like their namesake, the mule.

"So Dean's probably going to be gone for a while, then, huh?"

Bobby nodded then spoke. "I suppose so."

"Have you gotten any sleep Bobby, cause really, I won't break if I'm left alone, I promise."

"I will when your brother comes back. Promised him I'd stay with ya while he was gone."

Sam rolled his eyes. Typical. Just typical. Had everybody forgotten he was 26 years old and able to look after himself. "Well geeze Bobby at least go get something to eat. You don't have to sit here staring at the blind guy the whole time. I can hear your stomach growling from here, so don't lie to me and tell me you've already eaten."

"Blind or not Sam Winchestor your intuitive, I'll give you that. Even more so then your brother or your daddy. Ok. I'll wait until your doc comes in to check on you and then I'll head down to the cafeteria and grab something." Bobby adjusted his dirty hat. It was kind of disconcerting to see Sam's eyes looking at him and know he couldn't actually see out of them. Heartbreaking as well, as Bobby knew just what it must be doing to the kid.

"You want anything? Something to drink at least?"

"Nah I'm sure they'll bring me something if I need it."

"Ok."

"Hey Bobby, thanks, by the way."

"For what, Sam?"

"For giving us actual insurance for once. Putting us on your policy. It's kind'a nice to know I don't have to hightail it out of here because the insurance card's flagged. And, uh, thanks for coming. It means a lot." Sam displayed a strained, tired smile across his thin, dry lips. His face showing the turning tides of purplish bruising. "Especially since dad's, you know, gone and all."

"You boy's are the only family I have. I'm there for ya when ever you need me, just like you two are for me. I know you appreciate it, you don't have to thank me, it's implied. On another note, Sam, how are you doing with all this?" Bobby decided he'd bite the bullet and ask the question he'd been holding onto. "Hanging in there?"

Sam's face blanched and he grimaced. "To tell you the truth, not really. I don't want to freak Dean out, you know, but I was kind of banking on my vision being back when I woke up. The fact that it's not, is pretty scary. Way worse then any demon or ghost that's for sure."

"Yeah I bet. But just remember we got options others in your position don't have. You know your brother won't stop looking until he finds something to fix this."

"I know, Bobby, thanks." Sam's smile was weak, drawn. He tried to be convincing but you could see right through it.

A knock on the door caused both men to shift towards the sound. "It's Dr. Miller Sam. Just wanted to give you a once over before I sign your release papers. Plus I'd like to get you down for one more MRI just to confirm what we already expect."

"Which is?" Bobby inquired, his eyebrow lifted in question.

Dr. Miller displayed a genuine smile. "That the swellings gone down even more then what the scans showed last night. I'm pretty confident Sam's cranial pressure is back to normal."

Dr. Miller shifted his gaze from Sam to the older man perched in the lounge chair. His clothes soiled and crumpled as they covered him. The man looked exhausted, stressed, and drained of poise or pleasantries.

"I'm Sam's neurologist, by the way. You must be the uncle Dean was telling me about yesterday."

Bobby stood and took the outstretched hand offered by the physician. "I am. Names Bobby Singer. So Sam's brain should be back to normal now?" A hint of worry in his cautious words. Sam seemed to show the same level of concern.

"The swelling should be gone by now, yes. But the damage to Sam's optic nerve, as I explained yesterday, could be permanent or it could take a while to resolve. There's no quick fix with this one I'm afraid." The doctor released a sympathetic breath. "It all depends on time and resulting damage at this point, could be a few months before we have a definitive answer." The man paused, as he wanted the information to absorb. "Every case of Cortical Blindness is unique to the person afflicted by it. The guidelines and recovery time are exclusive to the individual. No set protocols past what we've already recommended and discussed. The brain is a very interesting organ that we are only now truly beginning to understand."

With that the doctor walked closer to Sam. "I'm going to examine you now Sam. Do you still have a headache?"

A cold hand pressed against Sam's forehead causing him to cringe and squint his useless eyes. "Yeah. Not as bad as when I first came in, but definitely still there."

The Doctor took out his pen light. His hot breath showering Sam's face with moist intensity. Sam was glad the man's breath was under control or he might have had a slight panic attack.

"I'll send you home with some painkillers so you can keep the pounding to a minimum. Unfortunately, you're probably going to have the headaches for a while. A nice souvenir of the shock your brain took. Ok, Sam, I'm going to shine a light in your eyes. You tell me if you see anything, got it?"

"Yeah." Sam replied.

It was several minutes of his eye's being preyed open and manipulated. Dr. Miller asking him to look left, right, up, down and forward before he was satisfied and the examination was concluded. Through it all, the only thing that Sam got out of the exercise was a increasing headache. A small fire igniting into a raging inferno in the recesses of his brain. Attacking his already abused receptors and sore neurons.

"Well nothing yet Sam." The neurologist commented patting his shoulder. "But don't let that discourage you. It might just take time. Until then, though, I'd like you to speak to somebody. I would have mentioned her yesterday, but I thought she was on vacation and considering your brother said you guys would be heading back to South Dakota once your car got fixed, I thought it a moot point. But, he took a long breath, one of the nurse's informed me she was available so I called her in."

He noticed both Sam and Bobby's perplexed expressions. "Her name is Vicky Sunders. She's the resident mobility instructor for this region. She'll give you a few pointers to get you started and she also said she has some info on rehab facilities in South Dakota. It's a good start to help you around and help you adjust. She's been doing this kind of thing for 20 years and is, in my opinion, the best in the business."

"So what exactly is a mobility instructor?" Bobby asked, having an idea but wanting clarification for himself and the petrified young man sitting in the bed next to him.

"A mobility instructor takes visually impaired people, like Sam here, and teaches them how to function in a sighted environment. They offer pointers on everyday activities and how to do things like order in a restaurant, deal with the public, or work on a computer." The doctor saw Sam's increasingly darkening glare. "I know it's not what you wanted to be doing right now, Sam, but it's something your going to need to face whether your condition is permanent or not. You're going to need the basics to get by, regardless, until things change."

Sam took a deep breath trying to calm his mounting nerves. Meeting with this Vicky person would make the whole thing real. That was something Sam really really didn't want to have to face. Not now, not ever.

"I asked Vicky to wait until after I'd spoken to you in case you had any objections. As long as you are willing I'll send her in. She's right outside in the hallway and very eager to meet you. She even cut her vacation short. I'll give you about an hour with her and then we'll take you down to radiology for the scans. You should be paroled by three at the latest."

The doctor gave a warm comforting smile even though he knew it was lost on his patient. He felt the attitude and demeanor of a persons physician was very important in patient care. No matter if they were aware of it or not, he knew it made a difference.

Sam cleared his throat. The words he was trying to use wouldn't leave his lips. Stuck in the back of his mouth like a ball of dry cotton. "Ah, um…O-ok."

"Great!" Dr. Miller exclaimed. "I'll go get her. Don't worry Sam she's very easy to be around, she'll put you at ease in an instant." Sam couldn't help but wonder if the good doctor had a little crush on this Vicky person. The way he accentuated her attributes so admirably, wasn't even remotly lost on the blind hunter.

Sam gave a less then convincing smile as he heard the hard shoes of the doctor leaving his room. This was so not going to be a day he would remember fondly. Not only did he have to re-learn things he should have no problem with, but he was also going to be released from a hospital he'd never seen, discharged by a doctor he only knew through sound, and released into a world once familiar, but now dark and foreboding. He would have to face the fact that he could no longer see his surroundings or have the advantage of sight when trying to do the simplest of things. Yep, today was gonna thoroughly blow.

"You look like your trying to solve the _why are we here problem_ all by your self in that large head of yours Sam. Wanna tell me how you really feel about this women?" Bobby's voice was soft but cut through Sam like a dagger.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know, Bobby, like I'm twelve years old again begging my dad to go to the movies with out my big brother. Learning how to get around? Order in a restaurant? Use a fricken computer? This is all stuff I mastered a long, long time ago. I feel like a dam helpless kid again. It's just…Sam took a second to think of the right words. It's fucked up, just fucked up."

Bobby nodded. "I can only imagine, Sam, but don't forget what we were talking about earlier, you have options. Options that others don't. There's still a lot that can be done regarding this blindness of yours. So until we figure it out this lady and her training can't do anything but help."

"I couldn't agree more." A light, smooth voice replied from the forgotten doorway. "Training is not the enemy it's just another weapon to fight the war. You two must be Sam and Bobby Singer. Dr. Miller told me that a very protective big brother by the name of Dean should be coming along shortly as well. I have a bit of training for everybody, but if it's ok with you, Sam, I'd like us to start first."

Bobby took this opportunity to stand and go for that coffee Sam had suggested he get earlier.

"Well Sam, I'm gonna head down to the cafeteria and get some rotgut hospital coffee to keep me from falling over. I'll be back in a little while."

Sam gave his _"uncle" _a dirty, you bastard don't abandon me and leave me with this women, look. Bobby just snickered at the response and took his exit before Sam could protest. He gave the athletically built, well proportioned women with deep brown eyes and long dark hair a respectful smile. Tipping his hat, bobby quickly nodded and fled the now electrically charged room. It didn't take sight to realize Sam was left to this pictureless stranger, his mobility teacher, and the task at hand with no backup at all.

Vicky chuckled softly. "Some peoples children, huh, Sam." She offered, her squeaky tennis shoes revealing she was moving closer to her charge.

Sam smiled, but didn't appear at all relaxed or at ease. A look Vicky was more than familiar with. A smooth hand reached out and took Sam's, a tight but gentle grip guiding a handshake.

"I'm Vicky Sunders. I'm the regional mobility instructor for this county. I'll give you some fly by the seat of your pants pointers and a few suggestions to help you out until you can get into a rehab facility and find a local instructor in South Dakota."

Noticing Sam's unease she offered an icebreaker. "I'm not going to bite, Sam. I know this is a lot to take in and a lot to absorb in such a short amount of time, but hopefully I can help you out a little and give you a few tools to get you by. We'll do nothing more then what you are capable of, but I'm going to push you in the time we have together. I am very down to earth girl, but not naive, so you should know that right off the bat."

Sam nodded silently. This was just too much for him. Here, standing in front of him, was a lady that he would never see, talking to him about stuff he didn't even want to discuss with Dean, let alone a total stranger. A small spike of rage flooded his body. How dare she intrude on him and his personal space like this? How dare she profess knowledge of what he was going through? How dare she…

"Sam, should we get started?" The velvet voice asked interrupting his thoughts of malice.

Sam bite his lip. Better just get this over with he concluded. Then I can get the MRI and get the hell out of this place.

"I guess." Sam tried another smile, but between his sudden anger and large, complacent sigh, he was less then enthusiastic or convincing.

"Well don't give me all your excitement all at once there, Sam. Save some for later, ok." Vicky teased, patting Sam's tense, but incredibly muscular shoulder. They grow them big in South Dakota she thought taking in the sight of her newest student.

Shaking his head, Sam made an effort to look her in the face, or better yet, where he thought her face was. _Dam dead eyes_.

"I'm sorry I'm just a little edgy today. I have a headache and I just want to get the hell out of here and head home." _Wherever home really was_, Sam added to himself.

Vicky pursed her lips. "Very understandable." She turned and grabbed something out of the bag she'd laid on the near by chair. "I brought you something to help you get around. Here!" Something metallic and folded was thrust into Sam's unsuspecting hands.

Sam fumbled slightly with the intrusion before getting his bearings enough to examine what he had been given. It was cool to the touch, with three segmented smooth portions bundled together with some kind of strap. Each segment was connected to the other with a smooth elastic band. The ends, however, were different. One had a round knob of some kind, plastic he thought, and the other was a slightly textured object of some sort, wrapped in what he could only imagine was leather or pleather as it was. It had to be a handle, Sam thought, his brain still trying to identify what was in his hands without the advantage of sight. Sam's blood froze as realization dawned. He felt all the wind leave his body and go someplace he wished he could follow.

"Do you know what that is?" Vicky asked.

Sam rolled his lifeless eyes and answered. "Yeah, it's…" A pause and a breath to steady his mounting nerves. His heart clenching tightly against his failing ribcage. "It's a cane, for the…bli…another swallow…blind."

"Yes it is, very good. It will become your new best friend over the next few weeks. Since you can't see where things are, this neat little invention will find them for you." Vicky smiled at Sam's obvious green pallor.

"It's not the end of the world Sam, I promise, it's just a different step. Now speaking of stepping how about we take your new toy out for a test drive and ware it in a little. That's pretty much all we're going to have time for, but it'll be a good start and help you out on the trip home. Aaanndd, Vicky drawled, if you do well and catch on quick, like I think you will, I'll try and sneak a couple other things in too. Are you ready to get this party started?"

Sam raised an eyebrow but didn't speak. Momentarily mute. I can't fucking do this, Sam thought. I can't go out there with a _cane_. Exactly what he envisioned when talking to Dean last night played in his head like a bad movie. There'd be no way to hide the fact that he was blind if he used that thing, no way to stay in the shadows and avoid speculation. _**No! **_He thought. I don't want to do this, I don't want to walk around with this invisible lady learning how to make it down a hospital corridor on my own. That's just ridiculous. 26 year olds didn't need people to show them how to get from point A to point B. When did his life get so dam messed up?

Vicky put her hand on his shoulder to ground him and give him some since of where she was at. She could feel the slight tremble under her small fingertips and hadn't missed the fact that Sam's already green complexion had turned a new shade when she mentioned going outside. It also didn't escape her attention that Sam's large hands where gripping the cane so hard his knuckles were turning white from lack of blood supply. Or that he was switching the offending object from palm to palm like it was on fire.

"Words usually work better if you say them out loud, Sam."

Sam swallowed the lump of saliva that had cultivated at the back of his tightening esophagus. "I don't think I can do this, you know, right now. Maybe later. I have a headache."

"Sam this is the only time we have and excuses don't work on me. Now come on. Whether you like it or not you have to do this and the sooner the better. Besides it's not as bad as you think. Your not the first person I've trained. Certainly not the youngest. The faster you realize this is your reality for now, the faster you'll heal. Now come on. Get up and lets get started. Vicky looked down at her watch perched on her creamy wrist. "Now we're down to 50 minutes."

With a forceful shove Sam was brought to his feet, and before he knew it, he was being hustled out the doorway. For a tiny little women she sure had a lot of power. Maybe she was possessed, Sam thought, the image giving him a small chuckle.

**********************************************************************

Dean couldn't believe how long it had taken him to speak to Jake and get the Impala. He'd only intended on being there for, at most, ten minutes, but the guy was long winded and Dean did appreciate the fact that he'd worked all night on his car, so he didn't want to rush the conversation. The impala was perfect too, Jake was truly a master. Couldn't even tell the poor girl had been hurt at all. He just hoped that, that would be the case for his brother as well. He knew Sam had to be awake by now and pissed he was gone. Drugged or not his brother wouldn't sleep this long.

Bobby had forced him out the door with threat of bodily harm. He'd intended on staying until Sam woke up, at least, but the old coot wouldn't hear of it. Their earlier conversation flooded Dean's mind.

"You need to get your ass over there and take care of business, Dean." Bobby had said gruffly. "Do you think for one second I'd leave your brother alone at a time like this? He'll be fine with out you for an hour. Hell, he might not even wake up while your gone. Kid's had a pretty rough 24 hours. Could sleep all dam day for all you know. And you, Bobby pointed at him. You look like shit. You need to get out of this place and take a breather before you start in on Sam." At Dean's beginning protest's Bobby stuck a finger in his chest. "And don't say you wouldn't because we both know when your upset, Sam's your first target. Especially when he's sick. So just don't! Give yourself a little time to decompress and process what's happened. And, Dean, you gotta get Sam some clothes. The kid can't walk out of here in a hospital gown. Thing only goes to his waist for God's sake. I think he might object to that."

"He's got the clothes he came here with, Bobby, I just want to wait until he's awake. I want him to know I'm here incase…" Dean stopped. He didn't want to utter the words, didn't want to push them out of his mouth and make them real, permanently giving them form and wait.

"Yeah Dean?" Bobby asked his eyebrow raised in question. Dean needed to say it whether he wanted to or not.

"Incase Sam still can't see, ok, Bobby. Incase he wakes up and he's still blind." Dean's face blanched as he uttered the last word. He looked like he was trying to cough up a bolder. "I just want to be here, incase." Bobby stood up and moved towards Dean who took an automatic step backwards.

"Your brother can't ware bloody clothes, Dean. You igits don't even have a motel room and we're planning on leaving for my house as soon as Sam's released. Now take my dam car and get your crap. If the car's ready then pick it up and bring it back here. You can drop me off after Sam's outta here to get mine. Now dam it, Dean, go!" Bobby, who had yet to remove the finger he kept poking into Dean's chest, gave one finale shove, forcing Dean backwards towards the open doorway.

Dean, usually filled to the brim with cocky comebacks, stood in stunned silence. He was so exhausted from the last few hours of test's, diagnosis', and doctors that he just didn't have the gumption to fight back and obediently took the keys thrust into his callused palm. He snuck a glance at this brother then put his hands up in a surrendering motion as Bobby started to block his view. Sam was fast asleep. His mouth slightly opened pushing hot air into his so called pillow. The light cream hospital sheets washing away all the color from his brothers almond complexion.

It was so unreal that Sam couldn't see. He looked fine. Normal. Almost peaceful. And as much as Dean wanted to stay, as much as he felt he should, that Sam was his responsibility, the out Bobby was offering was an inviting distraction. Dean knew if he really wanted to fight, Bobby would give in, but he realized quietly that he needed to get away and get his head straight before dealing with his brother's situation. Before reality set in for the both of them. If Sam still couldn't see, the first and the last place, Dean wanted to be was with him when he realized it. He would have given anything to save Sam from this kind of pain, but he knew, at least right now, there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"Ok Bobby, I'll go, but tell Sam I'll be back in no more then half an hour and I have my cell." Dean's eye's narrowed. "Got it old man."

Bobby sneered at the age related comment and pushed Dean the rest of the way out the door.

"See ya in an hour Dean, don't hurry back, we'll be fine."

To Dean, the morning's events seemed like eons ago; all a blur of minutes ticking away as his sleep deprived eyes ached for a soft pillow and an inviting mattress. His tired legs dragged his weary body towards Sam's room with staggered grace. Every twitch and prang of pain from their last hunt coming back to haunt him and reek havoc on his decision to avoid real sleep in a motel the night before.

Dean half expected to see Sam sitting at the edge of his bed, a sour grimace on his face the direct result of Dean abandoning him, anxiously awaiting the approval to leave. Bobby trying to coax his little brother back into bed until the doctors gave the all clear. What He found, however, was not at all what he imagined.

The single bed hospital room was empty. It was clear that both Sam and Bobby hadn't jumped ship as their stuff still decorated the interior, but there was no Sam and there no Bobby. Panic flashed through Dean's tensed muscles. Did something happen? Did they have to get out in a hurry? Were they attacked? He nervously pulled his sleeping cell phone from his jeans pocket and stared at the vacant screen. Nobody called. What the fuck was going on?

Taking a deep breath, Dean gripped his brother's duffle bag and turned in the direction of the nurses station. He was going to get an answer from someone and if they wouldn't give him what he wanted, he was going to raise hell.

Before he could open his mouth, Dean heard his brothers voice resonating from around the corner. He gave his best charming smile to the nurse that had just looked up from her computer screen and turned towards the familiar melody, relief flooding his body. At his approach what he saw made his stomach tangle into tiny, jagged knots.

Sam was gracelessly walking alongside a slender, athletically built women in her mid thirties or very early forties. His brother's gargantuan physique towering over her like the empire state building to a travel trailer. The women's sleek black mane brushing subtly along Sam's dingy hospital robe as they moved down the hallway. The younger hunter was sweeping a long white cane out in front of him, with the women's delicate hand clasp around his elbow. For the first time in a very, very long time, Dean, recognized the look of helpless uncertainty in his younger siblings expressive eyes. You could tell he was concentrating on walking while also trying to listen to the women's soft voice and keep from falling on his ass. The scene made Dean's heart drop to his toes and left him with a terribly bitter taste of bile in the back of his mouth.

This was it, no matter what happened from this moment on, if Dean was able to find a solution for Sam's handicap or his brother healed naturally, he would never be able to remove the image of his blind brother searching an open hospital hallway with that long white stick. The light extinguished from his vibrant hazel eyes by a senseless accident. The picture was forever burned into to the recesses of his hollowing retinas like the shadow of something desecrated by the flash burn of nuclear war.

Sam was _handicapped_. _**Blind**_. Helpless against the constant threats and predicaments brought forward by their rather unusual and unconventional lifestyles. The words stuck in the back of Deans throat like undercooked noodles. His brother was blind. Helpless against the everyday threats they and those like them faced on a daily basis. Their lives had just got a lot more complicated and considering who they were that was saying a lot.

A/N: Ok, I know that I said I was going to put the hint of what supernatural venue I was going down in this chapter, however, I didn't feel it should be brought up at this point in the story and I didn't want to make everybody wait EVEN longer for a chapter I'd hoped to have out over a week ago. **I did put Bobby in though!**

I hope that you are all still with me and are still enjoying this story. I am really enjoying writing it and, as always, I appreciate the reviews and suggestions. I'd love to see the review number go up on this story and get more emails that it has been added as a favorites or alerts. I don't know how long this story is going to end up being, but I know, at this point, it's far from over. Please stick with me and I'll really, really try to get another chapter out sooner then this one was posted. I hope the length of this will make up for my misgivings. J

_****To all the reviewers, Thank You and sorry for not replying. I live for them and love them but I'm having some troubles with my system, so thank you again. I want to reply but that is proving mildly difficult. All I can say in my defense is that I'm new to all this. Dam new people, huh?** **_


	5. Chapter 5

_Summary__: __**Sam and Dean are on a hunt for a garden variety ghost when a drunk driver derails their plans and may just change their lives forever. Sam suffers a debilitating injury and Dean is left to pick up the pieces.**_

_**Disclaimer:**__ I own nothing, I gain nothing from this story but the pure enjoyment of putting this idea out there. I don't have any power over the show, it's wonderful characters, or franchise and take no gratuity in return._

_**Chapter five:**_

_**__**As a side note: **__I wanted to say that The Last name of Singer for insurance I got from another story I read, however was going to call them Singer anyway before I read it. I can't for the life of me remember which story or author it was but I'm pretty sure it's somewhere in my favorites listings._**

Dean took a moment to gather his thoughts and remember how to speak before he approached his little brother and the mystery women. Vicky caught his eyes and seemed to know who he was before he was able to introduce himself. Dean saw her smile and whisper something to Sam as they walked closer.

"Hey Sammy." Dean stated simply, still trying to get over the image of his 6 foot 4 inch brother using a white cane to guide his way.

"You almost gave me a heart attack, dude. There was nobody in your room and I almost peed a little in my shorts." He glanced at Vicky nonchalantly trying to hide the forming red glow of embarrassment shadowing his features when it occurred him there was somebody else listening. _Think before you speak, Dean, he chided himself_.

"Thought maybe you made a break for it." Dean tried one of his charmer grins on the mystery lady still holding his brothers arm. "What'd you do to Bobby to scare the old goat off?"

Dean re-situated Sam's duffle which had fallen off his sturdy shoulder and touched his brothers free arm gently. He wanted to make sure Sam knew where he was so the kid had an idea of where things where in relation to his position. Dean could see a glimmer of embarrassment across his brothers face. The younger Winchestor's cheek bones were illuminated in a pale crimson hue. If Sam had been in the hospital due to an illness he could have easily been convinced it was a fever instead, but this was defiantly humiliation. No doubt the product of being paraded around the hospital as a blind man.

Sam gave his best, _I'm not embarrassed but I really am smile_, touched Dean's arm in response, and released Vicky's hand from his elbow.

"Hey Dean. Sorry about not leaving a note, but it's not like I can write. Bobby didn't want to hang around in the room while I went for a walk so he went to go get coffee."

Dean's face fell even further at the comment of his brothers handicap. "So I, ah, guess there was no change when you woke up then, huh?"

Sam merely shook his head but didn't offer anything verbally. His blank eyes cast downward towards the tarnished white linoleum in obvious shame.

Suddenly Dean realized he'd left the dark haired lady out of the conversation and turned his attention to her. Partly not to be rude, and partly to avoid his brother's crestfallen expression. He was pretty sure she wasn't a nurse as she was wearing light blue jeans, a pink tank top, and a lightweight over shirt which hid the thick lace straps below. To say he was curious as to who this stranger was, taking his brother for a walk like a dog on a leash, was an understatement.

"Oh sorry, Dean offered smoothly, I'm Sam's brother Dean." His best smile decorating his tanned face.

Vicky smiled. He was just as Sam's nurse, Becky, had described him. Muscular and strong with the slightest hint of disobedience and charm thrown in for good measure. Handsome to a fault. She could see right off the bat that this man was very protective of his younger sibling and would do anything to help him blind or not. It was also obvious that he didn't trust her and was curious as to why she was with Sam in the first place.

Vicky could read people, in her line of work she had to. Her Italian grandmother used to tell her it was a gift from God. When a persons sight is taken from them they tend to hide their emotions and if you don't know how to locate them, things became very difficult, very fast. You have to be able to read them on a different level and see what they don't want you too.

"I'm Vicky Sunders. I was asked to by the doctor to give Sam some pointers on being blind." Both brothers cringed at her chosen words. "I'm the county mobility instructor for the hospital."

"Oh, yeah, ok." Dean stated flatly his eyes creased in frustration. His baby brother didn't need a dam Mobility instructor, he was going to be fine. Sam would get his sight back one way or another. At least that's what Dean kept telling himself even though he didn't totally believe it. The idea helped keep the vomit from erupting from the back of his throat and allowed him to grab a few moments of piece wherever he could.

"I have a few things to teach both you and your uncle as well, but wanted to start with Sam since he's scheduled for an MRI here in about five minutes." Vicky nudged Sam's arm. "That's something else your going to have to get, a watch, Sam. You can't rely on other people to tell you what time it is, you need to be responsible for that one yourself. I'll give you the information on where to get one of those as well. There's a whole lot of products in the catalog I was telling you about, as well as online. You get the software to update your system and you'll have no trouble with browsing the site."

"So we're gonna to need to get some stuff for Sam, then? I mean besides, Dean gestured to the cane, besides that?" The moment he asked he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer, especially out in the middle of the hallway. Any nosey busybody or random demon could be listening in on their discussion making notes on his brothers new weakness.

"Yes Dean. A few things, at least, to start and then more as you go."

Sam took a deep breath and wanted more then anything to just get out of the corridor. He could feel people staring at him and could hear distant conversations relating to the tall blind man clutching a white cane standing in the hall. He'd had a hard enough time not bumping into every dam person they'd walked past and was ready to scurry back to his room and hide the shame he felt for being exposed and helpless. A giant spectacle in a very small hidden world.

"Could we take this little conversation into my room guys, cause I really don't feel like discussing my entire history out here in the middle of the dam hallway." Sam's voice was quiet, but firm. A hint of anxiety and anger rumbling directly under his calm exterior.

Both Dean and Vicky exchanged silent glances and smiled quietly. The unspoken frustration clear and understood. Sam was getting cranky and they could feel his tentative mood starting to deteriorate.

"Yeah Sammy, no problem. You need, ah, some help, or anything?" Dean asked cautiously.

Sam pressed his lips together. He could feel his emotions on the verge of shattering. His tightly controlled anger bubbling under a very thin surface. He was no good at asking for help, even from his brother, and being in this position made him want to spew.

"Why don't we start Dean's instruction now Sam." Vicky interjected. She moved from Sam's side and coerced his brother into her former position.

"Dean take your brothers arm just above the elbow and guide him towards the room. Sam's cane will give him a general idea of where things are, but with your help, he should have no trouble at all. This way, Sam, you can still count your steps and won't loose track. We'll do a little multi-tasking."

Dean looked slightly confused but did as Vicky instructed and grasped his brother's elbow lightly. He'd read something about counting steps in one of the brochures but hadn't really paid attention to it at the time. To concerned with his brothers lack of conversation to really comprehend the information. Then Bobby'd shown up and he hadn't had a chance to finish.

Dean tried for a joke to break the tension forming around them.

"So, ah, your saying I can't push him into people or a wall or anything like that. Just work like the bumper guards on the lanes at the bowling alley?"

Sam rolled his eyes out of annoyed habit. "Dean you are such a pain in the ass, you know that right."

"Yep, it's part of the job of a big brother, Sammy. So, ah, should we go or do you want to stay here and grow roots?"

The thought of his brother leading him anywhere made Sam's insides turn. He was definitely more comfortable with Dean leading him then this women, but he would prefer nobody leading him at all. Being able to see where he was going and not needing any assistance from anybody was what he really wanted.

"You better not run me into a wall, Dean, or blind or not, I'll kick your short ass."

This time it was Dean that rolled his eyes. "You could try, Sammy. You could try." He professed a thick band of sarcasm interwoven into his mantra.

Vicky could see, already, that Dean was the best medicine for his brother. Neither man looked even remotely comfortable with the current situation, but they were way more relaxed with each other then most family members and she knew in the long run that would be the best thing for Sam.

The walk back to the room was virtually uneventful except for Dean's misdirection and the resulting collision he had with an oncoming nurse. He tried to cover himself by stating she was a total fox and he meant to run into her, but Sam knew better and snickered, satisfied that his brother, with the perfect vision, didn't see it coming and Sam wasted no time in informing him of that fact. The whole debacle was the first time Vicky had really seen Sam smile since she'd met him and it warmed heart. Sam would be ok regardless of his outcome as long as his brother was in his life. Of that she was certain.

Shortly after entering the room Sam's nurse came to take him away and although he protested heavily she insisted he take the trip in the wheelchair she'd provided. This embarrassment isn't going to end for a long dam time, Sam thought, as he was forced to sit in the terrible contraption. Dean may have gone to hell but he was beginning to think his current situation was a close second.

After Sam had cleared the hall wall, Vicky prepared for the next faze of her training excursion and put all her attention on the tiered man standing before her. Dean fiddled with the clumped blankets of his brothers hospital bed. Once he'd said goodbye to his sibling he seemed to shut down a little. Obviously uncomfortable with some stranger invading their private pain and the space allocated for Sam and him.

"So Dean, she began. How about we start your training while Sam's down getting those scans?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. "I guess, what do you want me to do?"

Vicky offered a warm smile and moved closer. "Well I suppose that really depends on you. Do you have any concerns about what's going to happen with Sam or what kinds of things he's going to need? Any questions about schools, equipment, or procedures?"

From the doorway there was a creak of the floor and Bobby appeared blocking the florescent light of the hall. "Did I come back to soon?" He asked saving Dean from having to answer the women's intrusive questions.

"Not at all, Bobby." Vicky stated walking over to him and pulling his shoulder as she guided him back in the room and over towards Dean. "I was just asking Dean, here, if he had any questions about what Sam will need or about what his training will involve. We were just about to get started on the family training. You came at the perfect time."

Bobby visibly blushed, it wasn't hard to tell he was hoping to avoid the whole encounter. Vicky couldn't help a little chuckle as she stared at the two grown men before her. They stood at attention silently clasping their hands at their waists. Reminding her of two children awaiting a punishment for breaking their grandmothers antique lamp. If she didn't know better she would have bet they were more nervous and uncomfortable then Sam had been over her teachings.

Vicky offered one more opportunity for questions.

"Nobody has any questions for me at all?" She raised an eyebrow in quandary. "Either of you?"

Dean bit his lip and spoke up. "I ah, I guess I do, a few anyway."

"Good. What are they?"

"Well, what do we do if this is permanent. I mean, what kind of life is my little brother gonna have if he stays bli, a giant gulp, like this, like…?" Dean waved his arms and pointed to the empty bed where the long metallic white, red tipped cane rested.

"That's a fare question Dean. Sam will have to make some adjustments whether his condition is permanent or not. But for the most part, he should be able to live a fairly normal life regardless of the final outcome."

Dean couldn't help a small scoff at her statement considering their "_**normal**_" and other peoples "_**normal**_" was drastically different on the quietist of days.

"He'll need help with shopping both for food and clothing, and of course, Sam won't be able to drive so he'll have to arrange transportation, but he can still be independent. Some blind people require more help then others but from what I've seen with Sam I think he'll pick things up pretty quickly."

"Well the kid did get a full ride to Stanford," Bobby piped up with an acknowledging nod. "So Sam should be able to have independence? Because I got to tell ya, Vicky, these two boys are as stubborn at they come. And they've had to fend for themselves pretty much their whole darn lives."

Bobby's voice was gruff, as always, but it carried a hint of compassion and admiration in the undertow. He knew this would be terribly hard not only for Sam but Dean as well; The adjustments, the lack of independence, having to rely on other people in order to function, the constant struggle with everyday life. It would way Sam down, making him vulnerable, exposed both emotionally and physically. But dean, he considered himself the forerunner of Sam's protection, the last defense his brother had against the harsh world around them. It was the one thing the boys' father had successfully installed in them besides military obedience. Bobby didn't have to be a psychic to see Dean would take the outcome personally, wearing himself down trying to block every obstacle Sam came in contact with. Absorbing the excess weight of Sam's frustrations and pain and loading them onto his already overloaded shoulders. After all, he had gone to hell for the kid. He'd do anything to save Sam pain, even at the cost of his own happiness.

The fact that Sam had lost his sight on Dean's watch was killing him, of this, Bobby was certain. You could see it in the dark circles under the eldest Winchesters eyes, his blood shot orb's shining dull and broken. That glint of strength and sarcasm usually so prevalent on him now almost nonexistent. Not to mention the subtle slouch he had adapted since Bobby met him in the lobby. Really, how much could these boys take before they crumbled. Winchestor men or not.

"Just because somebody's blind, doesn't mean they can't function independently. As a matter of fact just a couple of years ago a blind man climbed Mt. Everest and that wasn't the only one he climbed either. As far as I know he's climbed all of the major peaks in the world. People are often surprised at what the blind can due. There are a lot of options open to Sam and he'll find that he hasn't lost as much as he might think he has."

"So, ah, what kind of training is there for Bobby and I then? I mean besides the whole keeping Sammy in line part?" Dean asked with a forced smile. He looked almost as green as his brother did when Vicky'd given him the cane.

"Well, I want to show you guys how to guide Sam, for one."

"Dean."

She looked Dean straight in the eyes holding him with her stern, no nonsense glare. It reminded him of his many run ins with principles he'd encountered throughout his youth.

"Kinda like what you just did for Sam out in the hallway only with some extra pointers. I want to show both of you what to do for those strange circumstances, like ordering out. How to help him with everyday things he'd usually have no troubles with, say shaving or picking out clothes, and how to react when somebody treats him inappropriately."

Vicky threw one side of her cheek up into a scrunch and pulled her eyebrows downward giving what, Dean thought, was a great Austin powers expression minus the little finger.

"Like say when people raise their voices to speak to Sam even though he's blind, not deaf. You'd be surprised at the stupidity of people when given an opening."

"Oh I don't think I would. I've seen my fare share of idiots. Dean smirked recalling several people he'd run into in the last 24 hours alone.

"Get ready for more." Vicky recoiled with a smile and continued.

"I want you guys to know how to avoid talking about Sam like he's not in the room and how to help him without hindering him. You might think your helping Sam, doing everything for him, but it can actually harm the newly blind rather then aide them. It'll be hard not to brace him for every run in or embarrassment but you're going to have to refrain. It may seem cruel but letting him figure things out for himself is really the best medicine. If a newly blinded person is not allowed to work problems through themselves, eventually, independent or not, they will stop trying and allow things to be done for them and loose that independence. I've seen it happen way too many times and I'd sure like to avoid it in Sam's case. He's still very young and this kind of a thing can hurt not only his independence but his self confidence as well."

Vicky let the information sink in as she glided over to her large bag still resting on the empty visitors chair. She grabbed two small black cloth bags from inside and walked back over towards the still shell shocked hunters. Sometimes her assertiveness and forward thinking surprised people. Especially considering her size.

"Plus, if you're both up for it, I'd really like to show you just what it's like to be blind." Both men raised their eyebrows and glanced at one another inquisitively. A silent, but mutually understood affirmation of insanity communicated between them.

"Depending on the trainer, you might see this later on, but I find that understanding what the person, that just lost their sight, is going through right off the bat helps the family and friends adjust. And it keeps them from being a giant pain in the ass to the patient. Plus with you guys traveling cross country it could keep the tension down if you know what Sam's experiencing. Even if it is on a very small, very temporary basis. I've found that it helps friends and family understand that just because the person can no longer see they are still the same on the inside."

"OOOkaay?" Dean asked obviously confused as to what would be happening next.

Vicky handed both men the small cases she'd removed from her bag and waited for them to pull the zippers back revealing her plans in full spectrum.

"Now if you can handle contacts the small plastic cases inside are for you, but if you can't, then the patches and sunglasses are what you'll need to use. I make a pack up for each of the family members and those are yours to keep. She winked. Just in case you want to put yourselves back there again at a later date."

Dean looked placid and frightened. Bobby just seemed shocked. Both hunters staring down at the contents inside their palms like they were snakes about to strike.

"It's not painful I promise." Vicky took her finger and crossed her heart. "And I swear it will help you be more perceptive and at ease around Sam."

Anger flared at the back of Dean's thoughts. He didn't need some lady to teach him how to be comfortable around his little brother. He was the kid's brother, father, and best friend all rolled into one, had been since the day their mom died. He'd never felt awkward or weird around Sam and this situation wouldn't be any dam different. Dean wanted to yell at her, hell, even push her out of his brothers hospital room. This intruder invading their personal space. Throw her stupid contacts back in her face and stomp off to the nearest wall where he could show it just how fucking irritated his was too.

That was the moment he realized he wasn't really angry or even a little mad, at the small, slender women with the soft blue eyes and deep ebony hair. He was furious that this had happened to Sam and was looking for someone, _anybody_, to take it out on. She just seemed to be a pretty easy target at the moment. One that he wouldn't run into after today. Maybe this Vicky was right, maybe if he experienced a little of what his brother was going through he would have the ability to help him and avoid making things worse, if that was even possible. Dean took a long, cleansing breath to stifle his ragging anger and pent up frustrations of failure.

"Ok, so who do ya want to go first?" Dean asked shifting his gaze between the rooms two occupants. "Me or the old geezer here?" He pushed his thumb through the air towards his "_uncle_" Bobby.

Bobby just rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Jack ass." He mumbled barely audibly.

Smiling Vicky spoke. "I want you both to do it at the same time. While I'm walking one of you around the other will be left in here, to stew. Then once you've both had a little walk around the hospital we'll discuss the rest of the torrid details we touched upon a moment ago."

The whole application of the offered contacts took Dean a good couple of minutes to conquer and he was seriously considering the patches and glasses towards the end. Each time he pointed the offending things at his eyes, his lids would relent. Ducking and covering for safety with surprising agility considering they were still part of his body and supposedly under his control. Finally, after much trepidation, he swallowed his pride allowing Vicky to apply them for him. He felt like he was on the wrong end of a very idiotic practical joke. Dean kept waiting for somebody to jump out of the closet and announce he was on candid camera.

The darkness that now surrounded him was suffocating and heavy. Even though he knew he could take the contacts out at any point, the thought that his brother couldn't take away the darkness ,was devastating, crushing. It was like a giant black plastic bag was forced over his face and he was trapped underneath fighting for every morsel of available air he could wrangle.

Dean could smell things; antiseptics, cleaners, bodies as they past by him each with their own distinct aroma, but he had no way to identify or categorize them. It was a very unsettling feeling knowing that you could not use your eyes to identify danger. The thought of being jumped frightened him, several scenarios of attack cascading within his brain as he sat alone, in the dark. But what really sent shivers down his spine was the total and utter helplessness the circumstance presented. He felt exposed at every corner and just seconds away for certain disaster. If this was what Sam was going through, he had to hand it to the kid, he was doing a way better job then Dean would be in his place, no doubt about it.

Vicky had decided to take Bobby out first, who also chose the contacts. Once both men were properly costumed they quickly lost that stark air of independence and Sauvé they'd originally contained.

She knew these men, Sam included, were tough. It practically flowed off them in giant waves of testosterone and sweat, but with their sight taken away, it gave them a sort of innocent childlike quality. Of all the people she'd done this little exercise with she figured these men would get the most benefit from it.

When you live your whole life as the strong, independent type, a little humility and vulnerability can do wonders for your ego. Allowing you to see that not everything is in your control and that you have to go with the flow, basically knocking them down a peg or two. Not that these guys were overly pompous but they sure were confident and she wanted them to understand that Sam had been slapped in the face with a giant obstacle, essentially robbing him of his life learned autonomy. They needed to understand their mannerisms would have to soften or the young man would run away from what he no longer had; bravado. Complete control, maneuverability, and absolute self-confidence now a carrot hanging on an impossible string.

Dean sat inside his brothers hospital room craning his neck to hear what was going on around him. Mindlessly he fingered the cold metal cane that rested on his lap. His brother's only independent link to the things surrounding him now. Even the feel of the inanimate object caused his muscle's to tighten and his stomach to clench. There were activities all around him. People speaking, shoes squeaking, equipment moving, things fallen, papers rustling. The whole experience was incredibly unsettling and sad.

Dean was actually glad to have been given this opportunity. To experience what his brother was going through. And one thing was for sure, there was no way in hell he was going to allow his brother to stay like this forever. If it took everything he had, even his last breath, he was going to find a way to fix Sam.

After all, Dean thought, this was his fault. He was the one that had wanted to stop at that frickin rest area. He was the one that had teased Sam about being lazy and useless as he left to take a leak. It was his car the guy had run into, his property, his obsession, and yet it was Sam that suffered the consequences? What kind of a God did something like that? What kind of irony loomed over them, hunted them?

As Dean absorbed his restless thoughts he gripped the smooth metal in his callused hands. What was most disturbing of all was that he had no clue how to fix Sam's problem, his disability. His brother was the one that usually did the research. Not that Dean couldn't but Sam was always better at it, liked it. For Dean it was like school all over again. Sam was the one that had found that faith healer freak. He was the book worm, the geek, as Dean had pointed out on more then one occasion.

Would they have to stop hunting? Dean questioned and then immediately rolled his eyes. Duh, dumb shit, of course they would have to stop hunting. Sam couldn't very well handle a windego or a witch without seeing where he was going. And their quest to find and destroy Lillith would have to go to somebody else as well. There was no way in hell Dean was going to let that bitch anywhere near his little brother now.

Castiel and the rest of the angel firing squad would have to just deal with it too. Whatever the reason they'd pulled him from the pit would have to be tossed aside also because Dean was not abandoning Sam when he was blind. He'd be totally exposed, vulnerable. Fuck that! Fuck them! A thought streamed over Dean's ramblings. Unless, of course, they would agree to fix him?

Would they?

Dean's right eyebrow peaked at the thought. Then he'd help them.

Yeah. That's what he'd do. Call out the angels and demand they fix his brother. Tell them he was done unless they helped. As much as he hated Hell, as much as it turned his insides to even think about his time there, Dean would not budge on this one. Even if they informed him it was help or hell. He went once for Sam and he'd do it again. Sam was the only family he had left he'd do anything for the kid, even that.

Dean was so excited at his solution he forget he couldn't see and stood straight up into a low hanging shelf. He felt an overwhelming thud as the top of his head exploded with intense, fiery pain. A little troll pounding him with a tiny jackhammer.

"God dam it!" He murmured rubbing his stinging scalp. "Pay attention Dean, you dumb ass." He commented to himself.

"Mind if we interrupt your conversation Dean?" Vicki asked guiding Bobby back into the room.

Dean's face blushed a nice candy apple red. He hadn't been paying attention and was caught off guard.

Dean rolled his eye's. "Yeah sure. Just trying to knock myself out with this dam cupboard." His blindly reached for the offending object. Fingering the flat bottom and sharp corner that had melded with his scalp.

"You need any of my DNA, cause, I think there's still a chunk on the end here."

"Yeah I can see that." Vickie teased. "Do you need any help over there or do you think you got it all under control?"

"I'm fine. Just wasn't paying attention. I guess it's my turn to take a walk, right?"

"You are correct." Vicky looked at her watch. "We have about 15 minutes until your brothers back ,so we'll head down by the cafeteria and circle back around by the water fountain."

Dean wrinkled his brow in confusion. "Isn't the cafeteria on the second floor?"

"Yes, and?"

"Well, I don't know, I just thought we'd be staying on this floor, you know? Close to home and all."

"Your brother doesn't have that luxury so neither do you. You and your uncle, here, are going to be taking Sam out into the big bad world in just a few hours and I want you to experience what that might feel like for him. Now enough stalling, lets go."

"Geeze you're soooo dam bossy." Dean remarked, giving the best charming smile he could without knowing where to direct it.

"I want you to use this too." Vicky stated setting a similar cane, as Sam's, in his hands.

"Where'd you get this one? And why can't I just use the one on the bed?" Dean asked reaching for where he knew it was still laying.

"Oh I have dozens of these things in my arsenal. As to why this one, well, see you're shorter then your brother. This cane is better suited for your height. Just another thing you know now. One more thing you and your brother have learned today."

Off in the corner Dean could hear Bobby snickering under his breath. It was quiet but it was defiantly there. Dean unfolded the cane and walked towards Vicky's voice.

"You better watch yourself, old man, It's not like Sam stands ten feet taller then me. It's only a couple of inches."

At that comment Bobby burst into uncontrolled laughter. It radiated off his ribs and caught in this throat as he threw his hand over his mother to cover a snort.

"Whatever you need to tell yourself, Dean." He managed between breaths, thoroughly enjoying himself.

Dean took a deep breath and grabbed Vicky's shoulder. "Could we just go, the smell of old man is getting to me."

"We'll be back in just a little while, Bobby. If you can keep from laughing and peeing your pants, you should explore the room and acclimate yourself with it while we're gone."

Bobby shook his head and waved them on. Still trying to gather some much needed air he situated himself on the window ledge.

It was definitely going to be difficult for the youngest Winchester to be so dependent on others. One thing that you knew right off the bat, meeting the Winchester's, was that they didn't do needy well. He wondered how long it was going to be before Dean and Sam were either at each others throats or itching to find a hunt to distract them from the fact that Sam couldn't see. _And he had invited them to his house? Was he nuts_? Bobby let another snicker leave his throat. He really did enjoy a challenge. This just proved it. If he made it through this experience with out a heart attack it would be a miracle of dramatic proportions.

Once Sam's scan's were complete it didn't take long for the Doctor to sign off on his release papers. Apparently the results were what he thought they would be, in fact, according the physician, they were better than expected. Sam still had the ache of a raging headache at the back of his temples for which Dr. Miller prescribed some pain med's but cautioned it would be some time before they subsided altogether. Now it was just a matter of the file clerks pushing the paperwork through and Sam would be a free man. As free as he could be under the circumstances, anyway.

The prospect scared the shit out of him. What the hell was he going to do when he left the hospital? Was he seriously going to let Dean lead him around like a lost puppy? Pointing out corners and blocking traffic so his helpless baby brother could make it through a cross walk?

What was he going to do if he couldn't hunt? Sam knew he was a hindrance now. For God's sake, he couldn't even watch his brothers back! What's going to happen when Dean gets restless and needs to throw himself into a hunt as a deterrence? Sure he's responsible when it comes to tactics and plan's, but anybody, even someone that just met his brother, knows he's impulsive on a good day. Part of the reason Dean and him were such a good team was because they knew each others moves before they made them and could protect the other from mistakes or distractions. But now, Sam thought, he was the obstacle, the liability. Sam knew his situation made them vulnerable. If anything, he'd be in the way, complicating things. Putting their lives in even more danger then they already were. And considering Lillith was breaking seals all over the dam place, the last thing either of them needed to deal with was another weakness.

"You wanna let me in on what your thinking about over there little brother?" Dean's voice pierced the thick veil of thought Sam had been immersed in.

"Huh. Oh sorry." Sam mumbled still trying to push away his troubled thoughts. He fumbled with a clump of blanket resting next to his left thigh.

The sun was pouring in from the large rectangular window pane directly behind him allowing a patch of heat to consume his backside and cause Sam to roll his tense shoulder blades in retaliation.

Dean lifted his eyebrow. "You ok, Sammy? You're doing a really good impression of a space cadet."

Sam shook his head and pushed himself off his soon to be ex-bed with an agitated huff.

"I was just thinking Dean. If you can't tell I have a lot on my mind right now!" Sam snapped, not meaning to, but not really having the energy to contain it either.

His emotions were a mess and his misplaced anger had started to make frequent appearances lately. He could barely make it to the bathroom without something setting him off. Sam knew it was pure frustration but at the moment he didn't care and wanted everybody else to feel just as shitty as he did. The anguish burned inside him like a smoldering fire. Always just under the surface but ready to ignite at any moment.

Dean took a step back and blew out a deep breath. He knew his brother was having a hard time with everything that was going on, but _**dam**_, could the kid bitch slap you with that tongue of his when he wanted too. Quick, hard, and lethal before you even knew you were hit.

Bobby threw a sharp glance Dean's way, silently reminding him to walk on egg shells with his brother. They'd talked it over with Vickie and it was agreed that for a little while they would give Sam some extra rope. She'd told them a little extra tolerance was a good thing right now, but also warned them not to over due it. allowing him to forgot he wasn't impervious and immune to social manners wouldn't help anybody, especially Sam.

Dean's lips curled up into a small smile at the memory. If Sam knew they'd all had a "_how are we going to handle Sammy_" conversation he'd loose it. Especially right now with his emotions about as stable as a pregnant women on hormone injections.

"Yeah, Sam, I know man, but you're gonna have to snap out of it if you want to make it out of the hospital. The doc could still pull those walking papers, especially if you start spacing off. Wouldn't want him thinking you've got another bleed in your brain or that that bump on your head caused more damage then they thought. Nobody needs to know it isn't from the head injury." Dean smirked a familiar glint of humor in his deep emerald eyes. "I was gonna suggest mental help, but figured that wouldn't be fare. I don't think unleashing your mental state on them would be very nice, especially since they were nice enough to treat your sorry ass. Wouldn't want to punish their kindness with your mental problems."

Suddenly a waxed paper cup smacked Dean in the side of the head. In the corner of the room Bobby was snickering and Sam had a large, bright smile pasted across his misguided face. Dean just stood silent and stunned.

Bobby cleared his throat. "Uh Dean you gotta little…" Bobby swiped his finger across his temple. "A little orange juice in your eyebrow."

"Guess I still got it." Sam teased pushing off the edge of the window sill he'd gravitated to.

"Somebody's coming." He stated glancing towards the hall. Eyes wide and unfocussed in the stale hospital fluorescents.

Dean and Bobby both looked at the empty doorway and exchanged skeptical glimpses. They were about to rethink the mental eval. when Dr. Miller appeared before them.

"Well Samuel it looks like you are a free man." He waved a white paper bag in the air.

The sneer Sam gave at the pronunciation of his name did not go unnoticed and caused the good doctor to chuckle. He'd miss these guys. They were down to earth and easy to relate to. He liked them.

"Ok, then." Dr. Miller stated. "Samuel is not up for grabs." He cleared his throat. "Sam I have two different painkillers in here for you. One's percacet for when the headaches get really bad and one's Tylenol with condine. Now percacet can make you sleepy but it's not common. Tylenol three's, which is what these are, he shook the bag, will knock you on your ass so only take them when you don't need to be very productive. Other then these I'd recommend four Ibuprofens, which is prescription strength, only cheaper. That should keep your pain at bay. Make sure you eat something with it though or you'll give yourself a nice ulcer to go along with everything else you have to deal with."

The doctor reached out and took Sam's hand setting the bag in his palm. "You have any questions?"

Sam shook his head and tightly gripped the pills. Another thing he was going to have to have help with. He couldn't read what was on the bottles, so he'd have to have his brother get them for him. So much for not letting on when he wasn't feeling good. Dean was going to be stuck to him like glue as it was. Sam already felt suffocated and they hadn't even made it out to the Impala yet.

"Good then." Dr. Miller patted Sam on the shoulder. "Any questions from the peanut gallery?"

Bobby and Dean both shook their heads. One thing this hospital and it's staff had done very well was keep them informed and answer any and all questions they had, had. In the back of Dean's mind there was some fear that the hospital and rehab facility, Vicky had told them about, in South Dakota wouldn't be as forthcoming.

Dean pasted on his best smile and moved forward. "I think that's it doc. I really appreciate all that you and your staff did for my brother. We've been in our fare share of hospitals and this one really sits at the top of the list. Thanks." Dean stuck out his hand and it was grabbed by the physician in return.

"That's what I like to hear. Good luck to all of you." The man grabbed Sam's hand and shook it, then moved over to Bobby. An instant later his beeper went off and he rolled his dark eyes.

"Frade my job's never done. You guys take care of yourselves and if you have any questions don't hesitate to call. Your records, Sam, have already been sent to the Green Valley Medical Center and to St. Thomas' Center for the blind. They'll be waiting for you when you get there."

"Oh yes." The man raised his finger as his beeper went off again.

"I can grab a nurse to take you out to the entrance if you want or I could just forget to tell them. You know, let you sneak out if you'd rather not take a wheelchair. It's up to you."

Sam grimaced at the thought. "I can walk just fine, doc, thanks." He replied with a pained smile.

"That's what I figured. Now if I were you, Sam, I'd take one of those pain pills or get some ibuprofen, you look like you've got the start of a pretty decent headache."

Dean's eye's quickly darted to his brother. _Sam was in pain? How'd he miss that_? The doctor picked up on his self criticism right away.

"I'm trained to notice these things, Dean, that's why they pay me the big bucks. I have a feeling you don't miss much."

Dr. Miller's beeper went off again.

"Oh for God's sake." Her cursed. "Dam technology can't live with it, can't shoot it. Costs to dam much to replace." He shook his head. "I gotta go. You men have a wonderful afternoon and, Sam, I hope things start to clear up for you. I'll keep my fingers crossed." With that the man vanished from the doorway with a sharp squeak of his rubber soles.

"Well Sam what say we get the hell out of this place. I could do without the constant smell of disinfectant and vomit, how bout you?" Dean patted his brother's terse shoulder.

Sam cleared his throat. "Yeah."

"Bobby's gonna ride with us to the repair shop. I took his car to get mine and left it there."

Dean went to grab Sam's duffle bag off the chair. "Bobby you mind grabbing all that dam paperwork. I'll get Sam's duffle bag and I think we're set."

Sam shook his head. _What am I? Blind __**and**__ invisible, now?_ He thought. "I can take my own dam bag, Dean, I'm not an invalid for God's sake. I can handle my own stuff."

"Really?" Dean questioned. "And what side ya gonna carry it on, huh? The side that I'm holding onto or the side you're sweeping that cane around with? Cause I gotta tell ya, little brother, I practically raised you and I don't think you're that coordinated."

Sam rolled his eyes in frustration. His jaw as tight as a steel trap.

"I don't need the dam cane to walk out of the hospital, Dean. If you help me I can make it and carry my own frickin bag."

Dean shook his head and shot Bobby another silent glance. This was going to be buckets of fun getting Sam to corporate and do what he was supposed to. He picked up the cane, now folded, off the bed and thrust it into Sam's slightly trembling hand.

"Vicky said you need to start using this thing and getting used to it, soooo, I'm afraid your out numbered on that one. You either use it or I leave your sorry ass here and make you find your own way out."

Sam's eyebrows raised in set defiance. "Fine I will. I'll just call for a nurse and she'll take me out to the car."

"Oh no she won't, Sammy boy, I'll tell every single person out there, staff or not, not to help you. Just quit being such a stubborn shit and let me carry your dam bag. You can assert your over blown independence when we've made it out of the dam building and put some miles on the car. Ok?"

With a stern puff of air, Sam conceded. "Fine but don't think for one minute this is going to keep happening. If my fucking head didn't feel like it was about ready to explode, I'd do it on my own and you could just go to hell."

Bobby pushed past both the boys with the papers and brochures tucked under his arm. He grabbed Sam's bag off the chair in one fluid motion, mumbling as he passed.

"Dam Winchesters. Every single frickin one of um are as stubborn as a God dam'd mule. Frickin igits. I'll meet you ladies in the car when you decide to quit fighting over who gets the last skirt."

Both men stood silent, their mouths gapping at Bobby's lack of tolerance over their disagreement.

"Man." Dean began. "We need to get him a cup of coffee, quick, the old man's about ready to start his period."

Sam smirked. "I think we have that effect on a lot of people, Dean."

Sam's forehead creased as another shot of white hot pain cascaded across his temples. It was defiantly time for some form of pain killers. His brain felt like it wanted to jump, screaming out of his scull. The pain was almost as intense as when he had a vision, just different. Dean instantly caught the signs this time and wasn't about to let it go.

"You ok Sammy? You're a white as a sheet."

"I just need to get out of here, Dean, my heads starting to really kill me."

"Ok. Which arm do you want me to take?"

With a flick of his wrist, the cane, now unfolded, hit the ground with a soft thud. Sam shrugged his tired shoulders and did his best to face his brother.

"I guess my left. Vickie kinda showed me how to use both arms, but I don't think it would be a good idea to try to use my left hand with this thing just yet. Wouldn't want to involuntarily jerk and take somebody out with the dam thing. Since I'm right handed I think I'll stick to that."

"Gottcha." Dean said grasping his siblings left elbow. "We'll go at your pace, dude, you want me to go faster just say so, k?"

Sam felt all the blood rush from his body as the two of them started to walk. Was this how the rest of his life was going to go? Never seeing another face. Never driving again. Never seeing his own reflection again? Always being lead around and directed? Up until recently, Sam thought the worst thing that could happen to him would be to be left alone. No family, no friends, no people, but now? Now, he wasn't so sure.

"Sam. You listening to me?"

"Huh?" Sam shook his head. "Oh yeah, man, sorry. Yea. I got it."

"If I didn't know better, Sammy, I'd say the doctor already gave you a shot of pain killers. Or a lobotomy." Dean chuckled at the imagery. "You're about as with it as when you're drunk. We'll be at the car in a second so just stay with me, ok. I don't want you to run into a dam wall and knock yourself out. You are way to heavy for me to hall your ass all the way outside."

"Yep. My shrimp of an older brother is to weak to hall my ass a few feet if I pass out, got it."

"Dude." Dean smirked as he lead them to the elevator. "I'm not short, you're just freakishly tall. I can't help it if mom and dad pumped you full of growth hormones when you were still in the womb."

The next few hours were a blur for Sam. His pain medication being a big factor in that. Once they'd left the confines of the hospital and retrieved Bobby's car it was decided that the brothers would head on to South Dakota and get Sam situated with the institute, while Bobby took care of the salt and burn they'd originally gone to Oregon for.

"_It's not like I need to be on your skirt tales, boys._" Bobby had said once they'd reached the garage. "_I'll take care of the ghost and meet you both in a few days. That way you two can get Sam started with the institute and get settled._" Sam had rolled his sightless hazel eyes at that, but hadn't protested his indifference like the other occasions when his required training had been brought up. Instead, he just gave a quiet scoff and faced the passenger window.

It was going to be a very, very, veeerrry long drive, Dean thought, as the whole ordeal unfolded around him. His dad may have been a rough, stubborn bastard, but his brother? Well, Sam he had surpassed their dad in stubbornness by the time he was ten. Sometimes all Dean saw in his brother, was his father. In some cases, an exaggerated form, but still, Sam was a lot like him. Looks and attitude alike.

The Winchester brothers thanked their "Uncle" for taking care of the ghost and parted ways just above Newport. Sam and Dean figured they could get a few hours of driving in before they needed to stop and took the costal highway towards Portland.

It had been three hours of uncomfortable silence, his head plastered to the side of the Impala's warm metal interior, sweat pooling under his arms, when Sam felt the car violently jerk.

The trip, in general was a real endeavor for him, as he tried to get used to the feeling of moving without seeing where he was going and keep from freaking out when something startled him. He'd jumped a few times before as Dean took a sharp corner or hit a patch of broken pavement. But this, this was different. Even though it was nearly 100 degrees outside and the open windows of the car only shadowed the intense heat he felt a spike of ice cold air brush his face.

With a gasp, Sam's eyes flung open from the intense temperature change. The darkness that he'd grown so accustomed to over the last two days faded way to a dull grey. His lungs seized and a spike of excitement filtered through his body. It was dark out, night, but it wasn't the never ending black nothingness that he'd woken up to after the crash. _Holly shit! _He thought. _I can see!_

It was then that Sam realized they were no longer moving. The impala was parked at the edge of a muddy hillside, settled next to an abandoned dirt road, covered in renegade, brittle bushes and broken tree trunks. Something about his surroundings made him feel he'd been there before, but he put it off to the shock of being able see and filed it away under excited paranoia.

His overwhelming glee filling him to the brim, Sam, searched the drivers side for his brother, anxious to share the good news. To his dismay Dean was nowhere to be found. _Where in the hell could he have gone?_ Sam asked himself, taking in the scenery. _It was just so dam good to see again._

Another look around, Sam started to feel uneasy. There's no way Dean would leave his blind, little brother alone in the middle of nowhere. Hell, he wouldn't even leave him alone in a hospital full of medical professionals for God sakes.

There didn't seem to be anything for miles. Just darkened sage bushes, spindly trees, and un-kept landscapes cluttered with wayward shrubbery. Shadows decorated the dusty ground giving an eerie feel to the empty atmosphere. Instinctively Sam checked his watch to see just what time it really was. 9:45, no wonder it was so dark out. He breathed a sigh of relief that the darkness was from a night capped sky and not a side effect of his brain injury. He'd take sight in any form he could, but didn't want to spend the rest of his life lurking amongst dull grays and faded hues if he could help it.

With a heavy hand Sam opened the passenger door and peeled his lengthy body out of the cramped confines of his brother's prized possession. His moist skin sticking to the polished interior. After stretching the kinks out of his muscles, Sam grabbed a flashlight from the trunk and started to look for his brother. There wasn't a whole lot of places he could be, the area was wild, yes, but you could see a good stretch in the distance and it would have been hard to hide unless you really wanted to.

"Dean!" Sam called, hoping his vision was still off and what he thought he saw, wasn't what was actually there. Maybe, he thought, he saw off in the distance but, in fact, Dean was standing just beyond a clump of unnoticed trees.

"Dean!" Sam tried again, this time a little louder his intensity growing. "Dean, man this isn't funny. Dude where the hell are you?" Sam's own echoed voice was the only answer he received. Fear gripped his soul as he realized he was out in the middle of God knows where, all alone, with no trace of his brother and no idea why he was there.

"Missing something?" A sharp, taunting female voice asked from behind him.

Startled, panicked, and more then slightly on edge, Sam flew sideways and locked gazes with a young women. Her pale face illuminated by the bright rays of the evening moonlight. Deep yellow rays casting dark shadows across her otherwise average features creating an eerie first impression.

"Where the hell did you come from?" Sam demanded impatiently. Maybe he should have been a little more gracious but something about this girl made his skin crawl.

"I live here." She stated. "Well." She shrugged her small shoulders and emitted a chilling laugh. "Actually I don't _live _here really, rather, I reside here."

Sam's eyebrows formed a v at the vague and disconcerting statement.

"You a ghost?"

"Sure, whatever you want to call me." She stated wavering her hands in the air.

"Where's my brother?"

"You're not really one for conversation are you Sammy boy."

"Not when my bro…" Sam froze. How the hell did she know his name.

"You sure are cute, Sam. I'll give you that. Don't you recognize this place?" She asked eyeing him intently.

"No." Sam lied. _Have to find Dean, have to figure out what the hell is going on here._ He thought.

"You should." The girl walked towards the cluttered dirt road. Her dirty shoes pushing over the side of a dry ant hill. "You died here to, you know."

Like a flash of lightning everything fell into place. They were on the outskirts of Cold Oaks. They were at the edge of the western town he'd been taken too when he had to fight for his life and had ultimately lost. He was mere minutes from the place he'd felt the white hot pain of a rusty, jagged knife plowing into his abused back. Separating tendons and muscles as it sliced through his tender skin and severing his delicate hold on his brother and life. The place where Dean had sold his soul to save him. Where his brother had sacrificed his life, his very soul, to give Sam another chance at breathing.

Anger flooding every portion of his being, Sam verbally attacked his assailant. "Where the hell is my brother, you bitch! Where's Dean!"

The girl seemed unfazed by Sam's sudden outburst. She shrugged and smiled. Her eye's dark as coal.

"Where you left him, Sammy. I haven't done anything to your precious brother. What I want to know is why you got to come back and I didn't." She scuffed. "My ability was to resurrect, to pull death from a hopeless body and fill it with the life it had excreted, but funny thing is?" She stopped and took a breath of moist night air. "Funny thing is, Sam, I couldn't do it for myself. Instead of being able to resurrect myself or having a loving brother to do it for me, I was left to rot. Problem with that is I'm still here. I didn't go to hell, didn't go to heaven. No brilliant white light or fiery path to damnation. Nothing! My body became a rotting pile of flesh and my soul." She laughed. "My soul's still here. Lingering. Stuck."

"What do you want?" Sam questioned unsure where all this was leading.

"I want what you got Sam. I want to be given a second chance." She laughed a bitter, defeated scoff. "But that's not possible is it? So instead I want revenge. You see something I learned while spending some time here, is I still have to ability to ripe souls from death. I can't put them back in their bodies but I can keep them here, with me. I've got quite an interesting collection."

Sam's blood turned to ice. What the hell was he going to do with a psychotic ghost that could ripe souls out of the air and imprison them in an abandoned ghost town?

"I, ah, my brother Dean and I could help you. What's your name? We could help you cross over. Get you out of here. You just have to tell me where the hell you put my brother." Sam's voice had gone from pure rage to rationalized desperation.

The girl laughed. "Like I told you Sam, your brothers where you left him."

With another cold, detached giggle she continued as if Sam hadn't just freaked out over the disappearance of his missing brother.

"You think that guy that rammed into the back of your car was random? I used to live in Oregon. That was my father who pushed you off that ledge." She shook her head. "He was once a great man, now, she paused. Now he's a sniveling drunk."

Sam's face visibly paled. _She was responsible for his blindness? She was the reason he'd been confined to darkness for the last few days?_

"You did that!?" He asked, his voice laced with raw, rabid anger. "How could you do that I thought you were stuck here?"

She offered a wicked smile. Her black eyes glistening in the bright moonlight. "I am stuck here, but see, what I discovered is I can reach out to my relatives. Give them a nudge if I want to. Only family, no one else, unfortunately. But hey I'll take what I can get."

"Why, why would you want to hurt me? I didn't kill you. Hell, I didn't even see you in Cold Oaks."

"Simple." She shrugged. "You got out."

Sam took a deep breath. He had to reason with this ghost. For all he knew Dean was hanging from a rope or tied to tree bloodied and injured. Clinging to the very threshold of death.

"Just tell me where you took my brother, please." Sam pleaded trying to appeal to any bit of humanity she may still retain.

"I TOLD YOU!" She shouted. "He's where you left him!"

With a rush of frigid air the young women thrust her hand at Sam's shoulder. He felt himself fall backwards as all his strength was expelled from his body. As he fell to the ground he heard her angered voice reach out to him.

"I'll see you again, Sam Winchester, just keep that in mind. I will find you again and we'll have a nice long chat about what's fare!" Her angry words smoldering in the rich night air.

Suddenly Sam felt a vise grip on his shoulders. He jerked at the touch and crept away from whoever it was that held him so securely in their desperate grasp.

"Sam, Sammy, dammit! Sammy, snap out of it!" Dean's voice rang loud and clear in his startled ears.

Sam swallowed the lump that had formed in the back of his throat and opened his eyes, not really sure when he'd closed them. Sam prayed that the voice he was hearing was actually his brothers. _Had the girl changed her mind, did she let Dean go?_

A blanket of harsh black tar met his bewildered gaze. It took him a moment to realize he was still in the Impala, still in the passenger seat, and that his brother was forcibly shaking him. Seconds later realization placated his senses. As real as his conversation with the nameless girl had been, as clear and crisp his surroundings had been in that other realm, and as much as he'd hoped it was over, he was still blind.

Sam tentatively reached forward and met Dean's face with a trembling hand. _Was this real? Was what just happened real?_ All Sam knew right now was that no matter how much he wanted it, no matter how hard he wished for it, his eyes saw nothing, not even a glimmer of light or a blurred shape.

It was like loosing his sight all over again. He was blind once more and that above all else made his heart sink and his spirits plummet to a new, lung seizing low. If that girl had been real, if she truly was out to make him suffer he could think of no better way, then being subjected to another round of lets see what your missing and then thrusting him back into darkness.

**A/N: **So I hope that everybody is still with me. I know this story was MIA and I sure hope this chapter makes up for it. I had a lot happen in the last few weeks that has impeded my productivity including a 400 mile trip to a funeral, issues at work, and being under the weather. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review I love to hear from you all and hope that I'm still holding your interests. Thanks to everybody who has reviewed thus far and please keep them coming so I know you want more of the story. Let me know if you have any suggestions as I also ran into a nice bit of writers block. Take care my friends and happy reading. Oh yes send me a P/M or put it in your review if you know of any good Sam!limp, Sam!blind, Sam!Deaf, or all around Sam in deep doo doo stories out there I'm always looking for more to read. Especially blind Sam fic's. And hey I'm not above self promoting, if you like this story please let others know. Thanks so much and please stick with me. I may be slow but I'll keep my chapters long.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary****: **Sam and Dean are on a hunt for a garden variety ghost when a drunk driver derails their plans and may just change their lives forever. Sam suffers a debilitating injury and Dean is left to pick up the pieces. **Be warned there may be spoilers** There be cusing here.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, I gain nothing from this story but the pure enjoyment of putting this idea out there. I don't have any power over the show, it's wonderful characters, or franchise and take no gratuity in return.

**Chapter Six:**

It was on a long stretch of seemingly unending freeway when Sam started to freak out. Sure, Dean had noticed the occasional tussle from his brother as the kid was immersed in one vigorous dream after another, thanks to stress and pain killers, but this was different. Sam really seemed to be struggling, violently tossing and turning. Thrashing about in the poor Impala like a dying fish out of water. They had just passed a little, nothing trucker town by the name of Biggs and were close to both the Washington and Idaho borders.

The road leading perpendicularly in either direction. A large, fierce river separated the tip of Washington from the northern edge of Oregon and was paired with a nauseatingly straight roadway heading dead east. With in a few hours they would be kissing the outskirts of Idaho's boarder, once again engraining in an elevated speed limit, the need to pump their own gas, and the ever annoying task of paying sales tax. Soon, Oregon would be nothing more than a bad memory. Both men hoped to be pulling into Bobby's dingy little junk yard sooner rather than later. A place, for the foreseeable future, they would be calling home. Although at first glance it was rundown and un-kept, in reality, it was a sanctuary of safety the seasoned hunter had quite efficiently made his own.

At first, Dean thought his sibling was having a vision, but then, he changed his mind as Sam began to struggle erratically. Whispers of Cold Oakes escaping his cracked lips as he muttered unintelligently under his breath with terrifying persistence. The whole scenario caused Dean's throat to clench at the stagnant air caught in the back of his dry throat. This was not a vision, this was something different, something more profound. It had been years since Cold Oaks, or Sam having any visions for that matter, and for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why his little brother would be dreaming about it now.

Once Sam started screaming "_DEAN!_" at the top of his lungs, he knew he had to find a place to pull over. Dean had to wake his brother up before he hurt himself or the Impala. As luck would have it, there was stretch of pavement set aside for emergency stops and as quickly as traffic would allow, he made his way to the shoulder. Although it was getting late, the freeway was littered with impatient drivers accelerating at ridiculous speeds, completely unfazed by the classic beauty only inches from them. To say it made the black cars owner nervous was an understatement.

Resting a firm hand on Sam's rigid left shoulder, Dean attempted pull his brother from his terrifying nightmare. If Sam managed to break the window and further delay their journey by adding the search for a repair shop to their agenda, Dean, was pretty sure he'd loose it. Not to mention the fact the that the kid couldn't afford another smack to the head. God only knew what would happen then.

"Sam." Dean shook his trembling little brother. Sam didn't stir, instead, he started fighting the loose hold, causing Dean to panic even further.

"Sam, come on, man, wake the hell up!" Dean tried again twisting sideways and grasping his sibling's other arm.

_Was this a Seizure?_ Dean thought to himself amongst the dread. _Would they have to find a freaking hospital, out here, in the middle of fucking nowhere!? Would Sam suffer more brain damage? Loose his ability to speak, hear, walk? Oh hell no!_

"Sam, Sammy. For God's sake, Sam, wake the hell up!" Dean's grip intensified and become as rigid, if not more so, than his baby brother's unwavering muscles.

One final try was all Dean was going to give it, and then he was whipping out his cell phone and dialing 911.

"Sam, Sammy, dammit! Sammy snap out of it!" His voice raw with fear and unbridled panic there was no moister left to help aid the words.

Dean shook his little brother with every ounce of strength he still retained. It was at that moment that Sam's eyes snapped open. a look of utter devastation broadcasting his extremely expressive features. There was a deep sadness there, lingering. If Dean didn't know better he'd have thought somebody just told the kid his puppy died.

A tentative, shaking hand reached forward and searched the crevasses of Dean's scruffy face. Gently, long wandering fingers studied his skin, tracing the stubbled chin, feeling the distinctive features of broad cheekbones, and finally resting on the crest of short, damp hair.

Strangely, Sam's fingers were ice cold. The touch sent an unsuspecting shiver, laced with frigid electricity, down Dean's spine. _It was like nine thousand degrees outside. How the hell did Sam get so fucking cold? _

"Dean?" Sam asked, his voice shaky and unsure. _Was this real? Was he still dreaming?_

"Yeah, Sammy. You with me dude? You were freaking out pretty good there for a minute." Dean's eyes filled with worry as he saw a single tear silently slip down the younger man's tanned cheek.

Sam nodded, quickly wiped the salty assailant away with a deflated swipe.

"Where…um…where are we, Dean?"

"We just passed this little crap town called Biggs." Dean smirked. "Nothing but gas stations and a really big truck stop."

"Are we still in Oregon?"

"Yeah. Just at the border of Washington and not too far from Idaho. Sales tax here we come."

Sam shook his head and twisted uncomfortably in his seat. He took a deep breath and tried, desperately, to get his frayed emotions under control.

"I think we need to check into the guy that hit me, Dean. I think something's going on."

Dean practically jumped at the thought. They'd argued about it earlier. Dean going after the guy, punching him in the balls for blinding his little brother. Making sure he never took anything stronger then an antacid for the rest of his pitiful life. But Sam, being the humanitarian he was, had vetoed it, saying all he really wanted was to get as far away from Oregon as possible.

He'd tried to explain to his overprotective brother that what he desired was to get back on the road and put some more miles on the Impala. He needed to leave this most recent "_happy_" memory of Oregon behind with the last, and try to get on with his life. He didn't want it to consume him like it had before. So, much to Dean's dismay, he'd left it alone and concentrated on getting his brother back to Bobby's as quickly as possible.

"Yeah man, definitely." Dean stated overly excited. "I could turn around right now if you want and give that bastard a piece of my mind, or a bullet hole. Totally up to you, dude."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I didn't mean hunt the guy down Dean. I had a dream." Sam winced. "Well, actually, I'm not so sure it was a dream." He shook his head. "It was different."

"A vision?"

"No…I…ah, I could see Dean."

"In your dream?"

"It wasn't a dream really, it was…weird. I was at Cold Oaks and…this girl. This creepy girl was there. She said she died there, just like me and all the others but that she didn't crossover. Apparently her ability was to bring people back to life, but she couldn't do it for herself." Sam faced his brother as best he could, fear and dread lacing the soft sorrow dripping from his brilliant hazel eyes.

"She said she can't bring people back to life anymore but she can hold their souls. Collect them. Keep them imprisoned. Stuck. And because you made the deal to bring me back to life, she feels snubbed. And really _**really**_ pissed."

"Oooookaaay." Dean drawled. "So you have a psychotic ghost after you, big shocker there Sammy, you're like a giant magnet for those kinds of things, but what does that have to do with the drunk that rammed you? The Oregon coast is nowhere near Cold Oaks, man. I'm not getting the connection."

Sam winced at Dean's placating tone.

"She said she can't leave the ghost town, but she can reach out to her family. Her family, Dean!" Sam proclaimed, hands flared in expression. "And me too, apparently. I'm guessing if more of us had survived she would've fucked with them as well."

"So what, she possessed the guy? I mean, okay nothing's impossible in our lives, Sammy, but how would she even know you were there? And why this guy? What's he got to do with her? I don't get the fine details, man. Am I missing something?"

"I don't know all the details, Dean. She really wasn't up for an interview." Sam let out a long, frustrated sigh. "But she did say that guy was her dad. She was pretty cocky about pointing out she could give family members a nudge if she wanted to."

"Her Dad!?" Dean asked, his tone unsure. _Well that complicated things!_

Sam shrugged his shoulders.

"Maybe she felt me or something because I was close to her father or in her home town. Some kind of psychic radar thing. I don't know, man! You have to understand I'm still trying to get over the fact that I wasn't awake when this was going on. I thought I got my sight back." Sam's voice became quiet, deflated. "I thought I could see again, Dean. I'm still reeling from that alone. Plus she didn't really go into a lot of detail you know. I think I was pissing her off cause I kept asking what she'd done with you. I knew there was no way in hell you would've left me asleep in the Impala in the middle of nowhere. Especially considering my current condition." Sam waved a hand in front of his face to further illustrate his point.

Dean's heart clenched at the realization that Sam had thought he'd regained his sight only to be plunged back into darkness when he came too. No wonder the kid had looked like somebody stole his puppy when he'd awoken.

"Well that would explain why you're ice cold in the middle of a damn heat wave, Sam. You almost sent me into cardiac arrest when you touched my face."

Sam smiled. "Sorry about that, I didn't even realize. I just needed to know it was really you talking to me. You know? I needed to ground myself."

Sam shook his head in defeat. "This whole things so fucked up, I can't even think straight."

Dean didn't speak, just placed a comforting hand on his brother's tense shoulder.

"I'll tell you what, Dean, it was like finding out I was blind all over again. Seeing her face, the Impala, the damn countryside!" He took a deep breath. "Then waking up to this blindness. I really don't think I could handle it if she invites me for another slumber party. We need to take care of her before she has another chance."

"Another chance?" Dean questioned quickly. "The bitch threatened to get inside your head, again?"

Sam slowly nodded. "Yeah, she said she'd see me again. Find me. She wants revenge Dean. She wants me to suffer like she has. She even had the gall to tell me I'd pay for living. That's why we need to research her dad. Maybe we can reason with her!? Get her to crossover and quite screwing around with peoples souls. Get her to let them go so they can rest. Not to mention staying the hell out of my head!"

"Reason with one of those psycho demon kids, Sam?" Dean let out a strangled snort. "I don't know about that one. Dead or alive that's gonna be a challenge."

Sam glared in his brother's general direction, missing his target and hitting the side window.

"I'm one of those psycho demon kids, Dean. I'd hate to think what you really think of me then!"

"Damn it, Sam! You know what I mean!"

Dean took his pointer finger and circled his ear.

"You're not a cracker short of a box, a crayon shy of a rainbow." Dean chuckled the image to much to ignore.

"You've got to admit there were a few loose cannons in that bunch. I'm talking about them, dude, the crazy ones. Nuts, Sammy, bonkers. Add in the fact that she's an angry spirit and you've got a pretty giant shit hole to wade through. Besides the only way _**WE**_ could do that is if we went back to Cold Oaks, and I gotta tell ya, little brother, that place doesn't make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside."

Dean heard a snort ricochet from the back of his brother's throat. "And it does for me, Dean?"

Sam sneered giving his best sarcastic frown in retort.

"But, I gotta tell ya, man, if it's that or she keeps tormenting me in my sleep, I'll take option number one any day. I already have enough problems with out some dead girl fucking with me when I'm asleep."

Dean shook his head and sat back against the sticky drivers seat. _Why the hell couldn't they catch a break for once? Sam was already blind, for God's sake. Add in the fact that neither one of them ever wanted step foot in Cold Oaks again and they had a real disaster on their hands._

The prospect of having to go back there made them feel like they were stuck between a rock and a hard place. Even without their current problems, it would have made the brothers sick to their stomachs. Like a carton of milk that had been left on the counter for three days and put back in the fridge waiting for an unsuspecting victim.

And now! Now, they might have to go fry a lunatic ghost in the middle of nowhere with one of them at half capacity at best. Dean didn't want to admit it, but Sam was far from ready to take on a simple salt and burn, let alone a freakin angry spirit haunting the place where he'd been tortured and killed.

Life just plain blew!

"Okay." Dean's voice filled the mounting void. "We'll look into it when we get back to Bobby's." He knew there was no way Sam would take no for an answer.

_Damn Winchester pride_, Dean thought, with a shake of his head.

"But Sam we're not going anywhere or doing anything until you get some real rest. You have a serious injury and you need to chill out for a few days. Give yourself a chance to start those classes Vicky was talking about so you can handle things on your own. Then we'll talk about Cold Oaks."

There was a pause as dry silence hung in the air.

"Deal?"

Sam closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the seat. _Like I really have a choice._

Sam could feel a nice little headache building at the base of his spine and creeping upwards towards his temples leaving him with no energy to combat his brother's silent protests. That along with a throbbing goose egg protruding from the base of his tender skull were constant reminders of his recent deficit.

He knew he wouldn't win and figured he should pick his battles. Besides, if he fought Dean now, it'd just make the rest of their car ride a nightmare and that was the last thing Sam needed at the moment. He was sore, tired, and ready to snap at the first opportunity and really didn't need Dean pissed at him on top of everything else. Besides, Sam knew his brother was right. He just didn't want to admit it.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck absentmindedly. Sweat pooled at the base of his hairline leaving a salty warm mess on his fingertips. He knew he was going to need another dose of pain killers in the very near future to stave off the mariachi band that had taken up residence inside his pounding scull, but the thought of falling asleep and seeing that shady figure taunting him again, kept him from asking.

"Okay." Sam finally answered deflated. He was know resigned to his new place in their relationship.

Sam was no longer an equal, he was a hindrance, a liability. He had to be monitored and babysat, coddled. Why fight it when it'd be like biting the hand that fed you? Or, rather in his case, drove you and delved out your pain meds.

Dean could sense his brother's inner turmoil. Anybody that looked at the kid could see it. He was a mess.

All Dean had ever wanted, was protect his little brother. It had been ingrained in him at a very young age, and he took it extremely seriously, but this was something he couldn't shield him from. Dean prayed that Sam would get his sight back sooner rather than later, but also knew that Winchester luck wasn't the kind that threw winning lottery tickets in your lap. This situation was probably no different. All he could do for the kid right now, was keep him calm and try not to step on his independence too much. Although, as Vicky had said, it was going to be challenge. Even more so now that Dean knew some dead bitch was after his incapacitated kid brother.

Man the Winchesters must have tortured small puppies in a past life or something just as heinous; to end up with all the crap they were put up with in their lives. _Which cosmic being's wife did they screw, anyway?_ Dean was immersed in thought as he checked his mirrors to see if he could slip back into traffic. A second later, the key was turned in the ignition and the Impala's heavy engine roared to life with his gentle touch.

Sam was still cradling his neck as Dean prepared to pull into traffic. It was then, realization dawned, the kid hadn't had any of his pain meds in quite. He had to be in agony.

"You need something, before we get back on the road Sammy? I don't think we're close to any major towns right now and you could try and catch some more Z's while I put some miles between us and Oregon."

Sam shook his head. "I should, Dean, but I don't want to go to sleep. I'm not sure what's worse; staying in pain or going to sleep and seeing again just to wake up and find out it was all a damn dream, or vision, or whatever in the hell this is."

Dean could sense a heavy veil of depression pushing down on them and he wanted to avoid it if at all possible. All they needed was to be brought even further down then they already were. You could cut the thick, murky air in the car with a knife as it was.

"Well, man, as I see it you really only have two choices."

Dean stuck his pointer finger in the air to indicate the first option.

"One: You don't take the med's, fall asleep anyway, but sleep like shit regardless of whether princess show's up or not."

He threw another finger into the mix.

"Or two: You take the damn pain killers and at least get rid of the pain. It's up to you which option you like better. But if it was me I'd take the pills and at least eliminate one of your mmeeeeennnnnniiiieee, problems."

Sam couldn't help himself and began to smile. His goofy big brother always could make him laugh at the most inopportune times. Dean had done it on several occasions when Sam had broken his ribs just to get a snicker and cause him unneeded pain. All for Dean's own sick twisted pleasure. Especially when his older sibling was bored. That's when things got a lot worse.

"You are a real ass Dean, you know that, right?"

"Well, aware, Sammy. Well aware. So how about it? Option one or option two? What's your pleasure?"

"One." Sam answered clutching his neck a little tighter. The pain had recently multiplied. His little mariachi band had expanded into a full on symphony of off key guitarists, screeching tone deaf operates, and uncoordinated drummers.

"I figured you'd go that route." Dean displayed a large, goofy grin. "That vein that pop's out of your forehead every time you're irritated is trying to jump over to the driver's seat and strangle me. It looks like Quado out of total recall. Only in your head instead of your stomach."

Dean already had his hand in the backseat fishing for Sam's prescriptions as he ragged on his passenger. He snagged the paper bag and pulled it to the front. Sam could hear the crinkling of the paper and the rattling of small solid masses hitting a hollow plastic wall, as his brother searched for the correct drug.

"You want the Tylenol three's or the Percacet?"

"Tylenol's good, man, thanks."

Dean placed the tiny white tablets in his brother's sweaty palm. "Nighty, night Sammy. And pleasant dreams, princess."

"Sam."

"What?" Dean questioned, setting a water bottle in Sam's other hand.

"It's Sam, douche bag. Not Sammy."

Dean smirked at his baby brother's annoyance. "You are such a girl." He glanced back at the line of traffic once again.

"You ready to head out or do you need another minute?" Dean asked, his hand gripping the warm shell of the steering wheel with impatient vigor.

Sam gave a small smile and let a wave of lukewarm water drizzle down his parched throat. It wasn't cold and it wasn't the freshest water he'd ever drunk but at the moment it was doing the job. At least his throat didn't feel like the Sierra desert anymore. That was a subtle plus.

"I'm ready whenever, Dean." Sam sighed and closed his eyes trying to focus on the warm sensation of relief the painkillers would provide once they took hold.

Sam could feel a bout of uncontrolled, renegade anger welling up inside him just waiting for the opportunity to erupt and wanted to start moving before he did something he regretted.

"It's not like I have to worry about staying awake or keeping my eyes on the road now do I? I'm just along for the ride like one of this drop kick dogs you always see next to the box of tissue in old people's cars. Not like you're gonna need me to stay on alert or take over the drive, so, really, what does it matter?"

Dean cringed at his brother's dark statement, but pushed it aside as he was already worried enough about Sam and figured trying to tackle the issue would just be a waste of time. If Sam wanted to pout verbally, who was he to stop him? After all, the kid was blind, Dean, couldn't fault him for being a little pissed off about it. As a matter of fact after what had just happened he was surprised Sam hadn't bolted from the car and tried to hitch a ride to Cold Oaks. Blindness or not.

"OOOkaay." Dean said checking for an opening in the oncoming traffic hoping to deflect his brothers irritation and drop it right there.

A second later the sleek black beast slipped into the onslaught of weary travelers. Once again, the Winchester brothers were on their way to South Dakota. If Sam hadn't been injured, it would have taken no time at all for them to make it to Bobby's, but Sam's doctor had warned against trying to make the drive all in one shot.

The doctor had been gentle, but firm, in informing both Dean and Bobby of Sam's fragile condition. Making sure to press upon them the dangers of an injury such as his and the subsequent complications which could follow if he weren't properly taken care of. If they were careful, Sam would be ok, aside from his blindness. If things were rushed, however, allowing Sam to be overtaxed, he would have no chance of sneaking past further complications. He needed to rest and stay calm. The injury was a precarious one. If not taken seriously, it could cause even more damage then it already had, sometimes weeks down the line. The last thing any of them wanted was for this accident to rob Sam of something else. He had enough to deal with in his life without that.

"_The last thing Sam needs right now_, _the doctor urged_, _is to be cramped in a car for hours on end all the way across the country. He's going to need rest and proper meals. If he doesn't get enough sleep and nourishment he could develop debilitating migraines or illness. Sam's immune system is depleted do to his traumatic brain injury and being over tired could lead to more problems then any of you need right now. His immune system is working overtime to fix the damage already done, just make him take it easy, stop and rest frequently, and it will be better for everyone." _

The problem with that was Dean knew he'd be stuck in a small confined space with an angry, pissed off little brother and he wasn't looking forward to that one bit. Yes, the trip would have been intense, long, and nauseating, him driving all the way with hardly any sleep and no backup driver, but it wasn't like he hadn't done it before. Not having to spend days with Sam picking fights would have been nice, but unfortunately, the doc vetoed that the moment he'd opened his mouth.

_Oh well_, Dean thought, as the man finished speaking. At least he could go get a beer or something and let Sam sulk in private. Dam doctors and their rational thinking.

*********************************************

A few hours later, Sam's hand rested on the crook of his neck, the car lurked forward picking up speed with the addition of a new speed limit. He'd been trying to doze off but kept waking himself, panic keeping him from really using the medication to his advantage. He could feel the uneven timbre of the roadway and although he wouldn't admit it, he was more than ready for a proper bed. Even if it was a lumpy, rock hard, thin as paper, motel mattress used and abused by millions of people each night. The car was a comfort zone for him, sure, but truth be told, all he really wanted right now was to slip off into a dreamless, medically induced coma and stay there until somebody found him a way out of his current predicament. Especially after God knows how many hours with his legs were cramped up in the impala's passenger seat begging to be stretched out.

Sam silently prayed Dean would soon be getting tired and start searching for a suitably cheap motel on the side of the freeway. Preferably one close to a McDonalds or Burger king as Sam's stomach was starting a complimentary encore of Riverdance with no sign of an intermission. That way he wouldn't have to admit just how shitty he felt and put another ding in his already shredded armor of pride.

Dean glanced over at Sam after his little brother's stomach growled for the fifteenth time in ten minutes. The kid was trying to hide it, but he knew him far too well for that. Angry stomach growls echoed throughout the car like raging thunder and made it nearly impossible to ignore even with the music turned up. The older brother could see the pain interwoven in his younger sibling's creased forehead and mentally did the math, realizing that neither of them had eaten in over eight hours. Which, for Dean, was like an eternity. Truth be told he was starting to feel the unmistakable clench of acid rising in his own empty gut as it joined in the chorus of hunger.

It was apparent that Sam was trying to fight the effects of the sedative pain pills because each time the younger Winchester's head would dip from the pull of sleep, he'd violently shake it, his hair falling in all directions and jerk his neck back up to attention. If they didn't stop soon Dean was afraid Sam would give himself whiplash. The thought made him chuckle lowly. Only his brother could get whiplash from falling asleep.

"You know, Sam, whether you want to admit it or not you're going to have to sleep at some point. That bitch didn't bug you at the hospital and we're out of Oregon now, so hopefully, she won't stop by for a visit if you take a nap. You look like shit man, even the dark circles under your eyes have dark circles."

Sam instinctively opened his eyes and did his best to glare at his brother. It was going to take Dean quite awhile to get used to his brother's expressive eyes looking through him, instead of at him.

"I'm fine, Dean." Sam retorted, nowhere near convincingly.

Tale tell Sammy signs of self denial, Dean refused to give up, even if it did lead to another tongue lashing from his obstinate baby brother.

"That's bullshit and you know it, little brother. I've had to turn the radio up twice because your stomach keeps interrupting my music and you've almost given yourself whiplash about thirty freaking times trying to stay awake. Fine my ass."

Dean caught the silhouette of an exit sign gleaming in the illumination of the headlights and decided now would be the right time to pull off. The large green square, a reflective towering statuette of salvation offering well used beds and greasy fast food. Two things they both needed desperately.

"You look like shit and I know we're both hungry. There's a turnoff two exits up with a twenty four hour truck stop right next to a Motel 6. We're stopping, eating, and crashing. No arguments, got it!"

Licking his dry lips and adjusting his numb limbs, Sam nodded. _A truck stop?_ He thought. The last thing he wanted to do right now was to have to drag his crumpled body into an arena full of people to watch him struggle with his new disability. Maybe when he was a little less tired and more able to hide his exhaustion, but not now! Sam was truly and utterly done, he had nothing left.

"Don't they have a Burger King or Taco Bell or something, I really don't want to have to go into a restaurant right now?" It came out more like a whine then a request and at the moment Sam didn't care.

Dean steered the large black car into a parking space smack dab in the middle of the restaurant and the dingy motels designated parking area. He quickly surveyed the surrounding terrain and then spoke.

"Fraid not Sammy, at least not close, we're on the outskirts of a town. I'm going to go get us a room and then we're gonna grab something to eat. There's nobody inside the restaurant so it won't take long, then we'll crash for a little while before hitting the road again."

"Can't you just get a room and grab me something to go, Dean, I don't feel like going anywhere except bed right now."

Dean took a minute to consider his brother's request. The kid did look beat. Well more like somebody'd drug him under a semi truck for a good 30 miles, but _beat_ worked, he guessed.

"Ok, fine, but you're eating what I get you, understand. No damn complaining if your dainty little fru fru meal isn't up to your standards, got it dude?"

Sam gave a weakened smile and laid his head back against the seat.

"Whatever, Dude. Just as long as it doesn't give me a heart attach then I'm fine with it, no complaining, I promise."

"That'd be a first." Dean taunted pulling the latch on his door handle.

"You gonna be ok out here by yourself while I go get the room. You wanna come with me?"

Sam rolled his eyes and gave an extremely annoyed expression in retort.

"I'm not two Dean. I won't wait for you to leave and try to stick my fingers in the power outlets. I'm blind, man, not a helpless idiot. I think I can handle sitting out in the car for a few minutes by myself."

Dean shook his head. He wouldn't admit it, but hearing his brother call himself blind burned yet another hole into his already annihilated soul. Quickly recovering his composure he punched Sam square in the shoulder.

"Could have fooled me man, I'm always pulling your ass out of disasters as it is. Now be a good little brother and sit tight."

Dean patted Sam's head and barely escaped an angry thrust of a balled fist heading straight for his jaw.

"Knock that shit off Dean. Go get the damn room, jerk."

Dean laughed and pushed the heavy metal door shut.

"Bitch." He smirked walking towards the tiny, cream colored office.

It only took a few minutes to register the two of them as Dean and Sam Dartin from Illinois. Surprisingly enough, the tiny, bleach blond woman, worn down from late nights and heavy smoking, handed him two key cards instead of their usual dingy, rusted room keys which more often than not accompanied their various stays. Dean had made the comment that they were coming up in the world, but it slipped right over her head. Deciding the silence hanging in the air was as good a time to leave as any, he told her thank you and left the small office.

As Dean made his way back to the car, he noticed Sam had finally fallen asleep. His dark brown hair plastered to the side of his face. His mouth slightly parted with a small snore escaping his strained vocal cords.

"Perfect." Dean smirked to himself as he approached the car.

"God, Sammy." Dean commented opening the driver side door. "You spend hours struggling to stay awake and just when you need to be awake you pass out. You've got some timing little brother."

The one sided conversation of Dean Winchester didn't seem to affect his brother one bit. As a matter of fact, all it did manage to do was make the younger man's snoring more pronounced and annoying.

Dean decided that his best course of action would be to drive the Impala closer to their room as there was a parking space right in front of the door and make it easier on himself when he tried to rouse his comatose brother. Even the rumble of the giant engine went unnoticed by the sleeping passenger. So much for hunter reflexes on this one, Sam was out.

Once the oldest Winchester was satisfied with his parking job, he went to work unloading the car. It took him a good ten minutes to unlock the door and pull out everything they would need for the next few hours. The pang of hunger that now permanently resided in his gut was really starting to make itself known and Dean was more than ready to subdue it. The only thing standing, or rather sitting, in his way was a 6 foot 4 inch giant snoring in his passenger seat.

There was no way in hell, Dean, would be able to carry his enormous brother into the room so, as much as he hated to, he was going to have to wake him up. Sam was usually a fairly light sleeper but considering he was sailing on the winds of pain killers, a brain injury, and sleep deprivation Dean wasn't looking forward to waking him. Not to mention the fact that he would have to wake the sleeping man up gently since he couldn't see. The last thing Dean needed right now was to get punched in the nose or stabbed because Sam thought he was a demon.

**********************

Sam felt the gentle grasp on his arm only when it was accompanied by a much harder swaying motion, his senses trying to acclimate as his body was jostled about. The comfortable veil of sleep he'd found himself enjoying only seconds earlier was being interrupted by this annoying and uninvited intrusion. He wanted nothing more than to make it stop, but couldn't, as his limbs seemed to be encased in mud and no longer in his cognitive control.

As awareness slowly returned to his taxed mind, he realized he wasn't on the tip of a beach surrounded by beautiful women in skimpy bikinis but rather crammed into the front seat of his brother's prized Impala.

With an automatic grunt, Sam wrinkled his nose and pushed the warm, sweaty palm from his bicep. Amazed he was once again able to control his body, he opened his eyes and momentarily panicked at the dark cloud that surround his vision. Almost within the same breath, Sam remembered his blindness and pushed his irrational panic to the back of his mind.

"Dean, what the hell, you trying to make me seasick?" Sam grumbled wiping a hand over his aching forehead.

"Oh shut up, Samantha, it was either shake the crap out of you so you'd get the hell up and walk into the motel room or leave you out here while I slept in a real bed. Personally," Dean shrugged leaning his shoulder against the back of the bench seat, "the second option was fine with me, but I thought if Bobby found out he'd kill me, so I'm waking your lazy ass up. I can't be held responsible if you pick the stupidest times to nod off. I sure as hell ain't gonna carry your ass inside, that's for damn sure."

Dean's snarky comment caused Sam to snicker. Even in the dullest of times his brother could find an appropriately smart ass comment to lighten the mood.

"You really are an ass. You know that, right Dean?"

Dean smiled and gave his brother a lighthearted shove.

"I do what I can, the rest is just good genes. Now come on man, everything's inside. I'll show you where everything is, then go grab some food, cause I'm freakin starving and you need something to eat. If you don't those pain pills will eat you alive. Not to mention you're as white as a sheet."

"Yeah ok." Sam said, his right hand fumbling for the latch to open the door.

"Roll my window up, Sammy, I don't want some skanky road rat stealing my car."

Sam's fingers hit the handle and instantly started to roll up the window in an intricate dance of machine and flesh he could perform in his sleep. Then he continued searching for the door handle and gave a small sigh of relief when he found it. The headache he'd woken up too was now a raging inferno and all he wanted was a quick bite, a cold glass of water, a large pain pill, and a soft pillow.

"I'll sure be glad when these headaches settle down." Sam cringed, forcing his stiff body out of the car and stretching his cramped limbs.

"The doc said it might be awhile, man, so you need to take it easy." Dean's voice now resonated from somewhere off to Sam's right and was filled with weary concern.

"Yeah, I know, I'm just tired is all. So point me in the right direction and go get us some food you big jack ass."

Dean shook his head and grabbed his brother's left arm. "Nice try Sam, now come on, the doors straight ahead."

Mid step, just as he was about to alert Sam to the six inch curb ahead of them, Dean stopped, causing his lengthy brother to falter.

"Where's your cane Sam?" There was a distinct tone of annoyance and parental indigence lingering in Dean's words.

"I'm not going to be walking a mile am I? Just get me to the door Dean. It's not like oxygen, I don't have to have it with me at all times."

"Wrong little brother." Dean retorted patting Sam on the shoulder. Before he could protest, Dean had walked the few steps back to the Impala. With a little more force then necessary he stuck his key in the door and quickly turned it as the mechanism snapped unlocking the latch.

"Where'd you leave it Sam, do you remember?"

Sam rolled his eyes. _What was he five? If he didn't want to use the dam thing then he_… Dean stopped him mid thought.

"Found it! Nice try sticking it under the seat, man, but I'm a hunter, _remember_? I find things for a living."

"Yeah you're a regular search dog." Sam grumbled, barley audible.

Sam could hear the angry footsteps of his brother's heavy black shoes as he came back towards his stranded sibling. With a windy, agitated sigh Dean was once again at his side. This time with the dreaded beckon of Sam's new disability resting heavily in his palm.

"Use this thing Sammy or I swear I'll drive you out into the middle of nowhere and leave your stupid ass there." Dean reprimanded grabbing Sam's right hand and slapping the annoying metal object inside with both compassion and infuriation.

"Deeean." Sam began to complain, but was quickly shut down.

"Don't Dean me, Sam. You'll use it, end of freakin story." Dean was really getting tired of having to deal with his brother's childish behavior. He was hungry, beat, and frustrated and the last thing he needed to put up with right now was a whiny, baby brother. Especially a 26 year old version.

Sam crumpled his forehead and allowed his mouth to gape in protest, but decided he'd much rather be in bed then fight so he didn't utter a word. He knew the only way he was going to get there was with his pig headed, overprotective, pain in the ass big brother's help. As much as he hated to admit it, at the moment, he was virtually helpless.

Quietly Sam slipped the bindings off the cane and gave it a gentle shake. Like a metal fountain, the moonlit pieces fell into place and transformed into the long white cane that now adorned his darkened world. It only took moments for the two men to reach the door of room 25, and even less time for Dean to whip out a credit card sized key.

Sam waited for the distinct sound of metal connecting with metal but was disappointed when he, instead, heard some low curse words escaping his brother's mouth as something, _plastic?_, scraped the surface of the door.

"What the hell is wrong with these things, I mean really. Come on! For God's sake. Dean spouted trying to get the annoying piece of plastic to unlock their door. Who the hell thought making a credit card into a damn key was such a good idea?"

Sam smiled and reached up to find his brother's hand. It wasn't hard to locate as Dean was now trying to jam the card into the thin slit adorning the lockbox above the latch. It sounded like the poor thing would snap at any moment.

"Let me have it, Dean."

Dean gave his brother a curious look which was lost on him and grunted something unintelligible.

"What the hell for, you can't see anything. What are you gonna do with it?"

"No but if you tell me where the little arrow is on the card I'm pretty sure I can get it to open. I think they let blind people stay here too, not just sighted ones." For the first time since this whole ordeal had begun Sam sported a truly genuine grin. His dimples shadowed by the moonlight.

There was a huff of warm air thrust directly into Sam's ear and he shook his head in response. Just a second later the hard plastic square was thrust into his free hand. Sam felt Dean's rough fingers as they guided his own to the tip of the card.

"The arrows here, pointing down."

Sam stroked the straight edge of the sweaty plastic and located the point Dean had indicated. Next to the spot was a set of bumps, which Sam deduced was braille.

"Thanks." Sam stated tucking his cane under his armpit, freeing his other hand.

Gently, he reached for the locking box, found the point to insert the card, and smoothly slid it in. Seconds later he heard a click followed by a beep and tried the handle below. The door opened with ease and a blanket of cool air flooded his delicate senses.

Dean chuckled behind him. "The blind leading the blind, huh?"

Sam smiled.

"No Dean, I just have a little more finesse than you do. I don't punch first and ask questions later. The next time you want to take your aggressions out I suggest you do it on a demon or a monster, rather than some poor motel room door. Might get you better results in the long run."

"Whatever dude." Dean chuckled.

He was more than glad to have the cool air flowing over his beat body and was even happier that Sam was inside so he could go get some food. If he waited any longer his frickin stomach was never going to forgive him. And by the sounds his baby brother's gut was making his wasn't the only one.

"Ok Sammy; Dean said once again taking his brother's arm. "I've put the bags on the table to your right."

Dean pulled his brother inside and directed his attention to the small side table. He patted the surface, allowing Sam's fingers to run over the objects for a moment then he continued.

"Your bags here." He placed Sam's hand on the heavy material.

"There's a TV here." Another touch and placement of unsteady fingers. "And to our left there's your bed and mine." Dean kicked the end of the bed. "I put you closest to the bathroom so you don't have to trip over anything to get to it. This is a pretty small room so you shouldn't get into too much trouble."

Sam was guided to the back of the long rectangular room and his hand was placed on a cool door knob. There was a click as the air conditioner turned over, forcing more cool air into the dingy little room.

"The bathroom's in here, do you want me to show you around, or do you think you can figure it out on your own?"

"I think I've been in enough motel bathrooms to know the basics, Dean. Just go get the food and leave me to it, ok?"

"Ok. I've already salted the doors and windows so everything's secure. You need anything before I go?"

Sam's long limbs fumbled as he back tracked his steps and found his bed. Leaning forwards he used his left hand to trace the familiar contour of the motel's comforter and eased his way to the headboard. Gently, Sam kicked the edge of the nightstand and proceeded to fold up his cane. Then once it was bound and contained he ran his sweaty palm over the worn, bumpy surface of the end table and laid the device on top it.

"Go Dean, I'm fine, just get me some water with lots of ice and something to eat already. If you keep asking me if I'm ok we'll be here, starving, all damn night."

Dean smiled at his little brother's comment. He knew this must be devasting for the youngest Winchester and couldn't even come close to imagining what he was feeling at that moment, beyond the general malice and fear his new condition brought him. Each time Dean saw his brother struggle to acclimate to his surroundings it tore his heart out. There was no way he would stop looking until he found a way to fix this. No way in hell! And anybody that got in his way would have to pay a hefty price.

"Ok, man, I'm going, just don't have any parties while I'm out, got it."

Sam stuck his thumb in the air and then crossed his muscular chest.

"I promise, dad. No parties. Scouts honor. Just don't beat the door up when you come back. You never know if the place is haunted, it just might take offense."

"Yeah like I'd let a motel beat me, Sammy." Dean pretended to be offended. "Really man, I thought you knew me better than that."

As Dean pulled the door open he spared one last look in his brother's direction. The kid's eyes might be open, but he could tell nobody was home. Sam was practically catatonic. Dean would be lucky to make it to the sidewalk before Sam was in dreamland.

"See ya in a few, Sammy. Be back soon."

Sam settled into the bed, his shoes and jeans already discarded by the edge of the bed.

"Sam, Dean. My name's Sam." He slurred closing his eyes and settling into the pillow he'd shoved under his pounding skull.

Dean snickered. "What ever Sammy. Have a nice nap."

Dean closed the heavy door and waited for the soft click of the lock before heading towards the diner's glowing neon sign.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean wasn't kidding when he'd told Sam the place was empty. There were only two people in the entire establishment and neither of them were customers. A tired looking waitress with a black apron, blue restaurant t-shirt sporting the name 'Blondie's truck stop', and a messy bundle of unruly brown hair, sat at the bar with her back to the entrance. She was reading a greasy newspaper and speaking to a tall, slender man with a hair net who rested his large hands on the blue marble counter. The guy, a cook, Dean deduced, wore a white t-shirt and a large white apron decorated in a rainbow of various foods.

The place was a typical truck stop diner. The interior of the dingy little establishment was adorned with well used metal tables decorated with half filled ketchup and mustard bottles, corded telephones dirtied by pudgy fingers, and containers filled with sugar and sweetener packets. Its chairs housed in metal frames with ripped vinyl cushions and uneven round feet.

Inside, it was shockingly bright, to keep people from falling asleep in their pea soup, Dean assumed. Its four walls decorated with pictures of varying sizes. Obviously for sale, the white price tags hanging nonchalantly from thick edges. Each print sporting a different image ranging from random scenery or painted animals to various objects. Some real, some made up and cosmic. Pictures of horses and tigers straddling the moon and stars. Things he'd seen displayed on Sammy's notebooks when he was just a kid back in the eighties.

As Dean made it through the large glass door, his presence was announced by a bell hanging above his head.

The waitress, surprisingly younger than Dean had originally thought set her paper down and stood up. She sported a soft, brilliant smile and engaging round curves, which had been concealed from view earlier on. Her dark, chestnut locks escaping her messy bun. Dean could feel his heart race as he took in her hidden beauty. Apparently she got that a lot as the cook, moved closer and leaned intimidatingly against the bar she had just vacated.

"One." She asked making her way towards him, a menu clutched in her small fingers.

It took Dean a minute to recover his voice. He took an extra second to gather his thoughts, as well as his libido. The girl didn't have a wedding ring on. _Perfect!_

With a cocky smile he spoke. "I, ah, actually just need to get a couple of things to go, mind if I take a quick look at your menu?" _Man_, Dean thought, _if he wasn't so tired and Sam wasn't hurt, he'd be pulling out all the stops. He'd be half way to the stock room by the time her cook could blink_.

"Name's Mindy, just let me know when you're ready, ok?" The girl patted one of the swiveling stools connected to the bar and set a glass of ice water down in front of her new customer.

"Thanks." Dean smiled taking the seat. "I, ah, I know what I want, but my brother's a little more picky. Eats like a girl." Dean gave a cautious smirk. "No offense."

Mindy pulled a strand of loosened hair from her eyes. "None taken." She pulled a coffee pot from the back burner of the maker. "You want any coffee or anything while you look that over?"

"Ah, no thanks. I don't think adding coffee to my brain right now would be too good of a choice. My brother and I have been driving for hours and have a long way to go. I don't want to confuse my body and make it try to stay awake when it's so damn tired."

"I understand that one." Mindy said smiling. "If I didn't have five more hours in this place I wouldn't be drinking this." She pulled a cup from under the counter and poured more of the steaming brown liquid into it.

"So, where are you and your brother headed?"

"South Dakota. We have an uncle there that we're going to spend some time with."

"That's sweet. Gonna keep him company for a while?"

"Actually he's, ah, he's kinda doing us a favor. My brother was in a pretty bad accident back in Oregon and we need a place to crash for awhile until he recovers."

"Oh I'm sorry to hear that, is he going to be ok?" She sported a sad smile, her bright, teal eyes shining in the fluorescent lighting above.

"He will be, he's got a ways to go, but yeah, one way or another he will be. Unfortunately Sammy can't see right now, though, so that's a challenge. No relief driver to pick up the slack."

Dean didn't have a clue why he was talking to this girl, telling her his life's story, but at the moment, his mouth wouldn't shut the hell up.

"Wow." Mindy stated taking a drink of her coffee. "I gather he can't see because of the accident?"

"Yeah. Sam hit his head and when he came to the lights were off."

"That's terrible, how old is he? Older, younger than yourself?"

Dean gave a small smile. "He's my younger brother, by four years. He's 26."

Mindy nodded and looked up as the bell to the door rung announcing a new customer. Two men with pot bellies, dirty flannel shirts, greasy ball caps, and withered skin walked inside.

"Howdy Mindy, see you're still on graveyard?" The bigger of the two greeted, taking a seat at a table by the window.

Mindy smiled at Dean and moved from behind the counter. "You know me, hate the sunlight since I turn to dust when it hits me."

The man smiled and slapped his buddy on the back. "You are to pretty to be hustling tips from losers like us, kiddo, you really should be kicking that boss' ass of yours for putting you on this shift again."

Mindy grabbed two menus and walked over to the table.

"Oh now, Bob, if I did that you wouldn't have anything to look forward to when you pass through town." She switched her glance to the man who'd been silent. "So Mark, still hanging out with this troublemaker I see. I thought we'd talked about that?"

The second man's twisted faced suddenly lightened as a bright smile overtook his wrinkled features. With a grumble, he spoke. "Can't seem to ditch him, so you have any of that rot gut coffee back there you could load me up on?"

"Of course I do." She motioned to Bob. "You want some too there trouble?"

A smiled decorated the man's face. "How the hell else am I supposed to stay awake and make it across the state by morning."

Mindy shook her head and walked back towards Dean. "Two of my regulars." She stated moving towards the pot of coffee. She quickly made her way back to the two men and filled their personal thermoses full of dark, tar like liquid. Then after taking their orders she came back over and stood to the side of the bar where she could see the men and Dean.

"Have you decided?" She asked Dean as she removed a pen and order book from her pocket.

"Yeah, I want a double bacon cheeseburger with onions, a large side of fries, and a slice of apple pie." Mindy nodded as she wrote on her tablet. "And my brother will have a club sandwich no pickles on wheat with a side of potato salad." Dean shook his head. _Sam was such a girl. He was embarrassed just to have to order the damn thing_. "Oh yeah and a large ice water, lot's of ice. I'll just have a beer while I wait."

"No problem. What kind of beer do you want? We have Coors, Budweiser, and a microbrew called Summer Solstice, it's an amber ale."

"I'll do the summer thing, thanks." He winked at her as she turned to put his order in and grab a chilled glass from the cooler.

"I'm a little surprised you guys sell beer in here, figured it would have been all nonalcoholic stuff."

Mindy came from around the corner with a cold bottle in her hand.

"Yeah well, we're not nun's and priest's around here. We get a lot of tired truckers, vacationers, and all around tourist's that pass through and figured it would be a smart idea to have a little something for everybody.

"Nice thought." Dean said nodded his approval as the cool amber beer slipped down his parched throat.

******************************************

It only took ten minutes for the food to be prepared and schlept into styrofoam to go containers and by that time a few more tables had made their way into the restaurant. No longer able to give Dean her full attention, Mindy was dropping off drinks, taking orders, and setting plates of food down in front of her hungry customers. She pulled another strand of hair out of her eyes and shoved the brother's to go food into a large, plastic bag.

"Here you go stranger. I hope that brother of yours starts to feel better soon. I'm sorry to hear about the blindness."

Dean cringed at the word '**Blindness**' but recovered quickly.

"Thanks Mindy, and the name's Dean by the way. Don't work to hard. Wouldn't want to stop by here our next time through and not see your pretty face."

Rolling her eyes, Mindy shook her head. "Typical man." She snorted. "Have a good night Dean, hope everything works out for you two."

"It will, thanks."

Dean gave his most appealing smile as he left. No need to close the door completely with the girl, one never knew when he might be back through. Besides, he just couldn't help himself, she was a hottie, even under all that bacon grease and jelly smattered on her little apron. The swivel of her small hips alone was more than enough reason for him to make a lasting impression. Just in case.

Mindy watched as the vastly attractive young man she'd been flirting with for the past thirty minutes got up and walked out of the diner. His tight muscles tensing as he stood, his strikingly brilliant jade eyes catching the harsh lighting above and shining playfully. She didn't get many men that good looking in the little hellhole, but when she did her heart did flip flops. She may be working the graveyard shift, because her boss was an incredible asshole, but every now and then it did have its perks. If his brother was anything like himself, she was sure she would have been on hormonal overload with the two of them in her care. Giving her head a quick shake, she reoriented herself and got her mind out of the gutter it had been heading for since the handsome stranger had walked in. She had customers and they weren't going to feed themselves.

A/N: Ok so I know what you're thinking. I fell off the face of the earth, or Aliens abducted me and took me to a planet without internet service, but alas it was all me. I had this chapter done eons ago but kept putting off the editing. Luckily I know have a wonderful beta and she has done a fabulous job!! Thank you my friend for taking on such an daunting task. Cheers to Marlana!! I hope that everybody is happy with this latest update and that you're all still with me, I know it's been months since the last one was posted, but I hope the length of this chapter will, at least make up for it in some fashion. Thank you to everybody that reviews it literally makes my day to get a note that there's a review and I save everyone. Have a wonderful week, Nicole. :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary****: **Sam and Dean are on a hunt for a garden variety ghost when a drunk driver derails their plans and may just change their lives forever. Sam suffers a debilitating injury and Dean is left to pick up the pieces. **Be warned there may be spoilers** There be cussing here.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, I gain nothing from this story but the pure enjoyment of putting this idea out there. I don't have any power over the show, it's wonderful characters, or franchise and take no gratuity in return.

**A/U:** **This chapter is not my best work, but I hope that you enjoy it anyway. Basically this is a filler/fluff chapter and I promise the action will be picking up sooner rather than later, but I needed to put this in to explain Sam's state of mind for upcoming chapters.**

**Chapter Seven:**

Heat was the first thing he noticed, smoldering and cooking him from inside out, his cocoon of sleep only slightly protecting him from the shrill blanket of warmth practically drowning him. _What the hell? _He thought, running a dry tongue over cracked lips. The next thing he noticed was the sound of someone unsuccessfully moving around somewhere off to his left. Faint cuss words floating mischievously in the rancid morning air. With a slight twist of his legs, he managed to dislodge himself from the dank motel comforter he'd been immersed in. His body covered in a thick sheen of sticky, glazed sweat. Wrinkled boxers, damp and clingy underneath a mass of shabby bedding, hung vindictively, while playfully chafing the very area's they were designed to protect. With a frustrated sigh, Dean opened his eyes.

Rays of rich, brilliant sunshine assaulted his retinas causing him to dive for cover under his free hand. It took a moment, but finally, Dean was able to focus. No longer a painful blur of bright intrusion he was able to recognize his surroundings. He was in the motel room he'd rented with Mr. Darknell's credit card sometime late last night. Barely able to keep his eyes open, the selection of residence had come down to the first exit off the freeway.

The place was a dump, even by Winchester standards. Surrounded by integrated freeway routes, train tracks, and the occasional call girl, it was decorated in dirty brown's and flamboyant yellows. The dumpy little establishment hadn't seen a paint job in over thirty years and Dean was incredibly surprised when he was quoted for a entire night instead of an hourly rate at check in. But as was more often than not the case, it was a place to lay their heads and sleep in something larger than the Impalas back seat so they paid. Besides, at 1:30 in the morning with no sleep and a heat wave from hell the place may as well have been heaven. Dean made a promise right then and there, that once they reached Bobby's both him and Sam were taken some serious downtime. Burning the candle at both ends had to stop for awhile, at least until Sam was doing better.

Even though Dean had pleaded with Sam to join him for breakfast that first morning, back at the truck stop, Sam had refused stating he had a horrible headache and could barely stand. Dean knew that wasn't the case, his brother would never let a headache stop him from living, but figured Sam had a right to feel insecure and let it slide. Over the course of the last few days, however, it hadn't gotten any better and it was obvious to the older sibling that his brother needed to accept things or they'd both end up in the nuthouse. As Dean was left to pick the meals as of late, he'd purposely been buying items that, under normal circumstances, would drive his borderline vegan brother insane. It was his attempt at trying to coax the kid out of the thickening cocoon he'd begun to wrap himself in, but even that had failed and now Dean was starting to get worried.

Ever since the first motel, Sam had been making excuses as to why he couldn't go into public places. It didn't take a rocket surgeon to figure out the kid was scared but he had to face reality sooner or later. Dean had to find someway to bring Sam out of this state of hibernation before he buried himself so far in he'd never resurface. The youngest name sake may be a geek but the kid had spunk and lately that spunk had diminished so much it'd practically disappeared altogether. Pulled under by a pool of uncertainty and despair that now shrouded his entire world Sam, himself, was beginning to fade away.

Despite all his taunting and teasing, Dean loved having his kid brother with him and missed the usual banter, pranks, and general disagreements that always arose. It kept him grounded in a world of uncertainty and degradation and let him know not everything in this world revolved around flesh eating monsters or black eyed demons. These days Sam was reserved, scary quiet, and going out of his way to avoid anything and everything. He didn't laugh, didn't argue, and didn't speak unless spoken to first. The guy didn't even protest when Dean called him Sammy. Now if that wasn't a sign that something was wrong, Dean didn't know what was.

It was like his kid brother had been swallowed up by a pod person and replaced with a less then adequate copy. He was a shell of his former self and that, above all else, scared the hell out of Dean.

The fact that Sam was up and mulling around intrigued the older brother. It'd been getting harder and harder just to get the guy out of bed and dressed let alone into the bathroom without prompting. Now all of a sudden he was awake, pissing and moaning, and spewing choice words at inanimate objects. Maybe Sam was starting to come around. The kid was always so resilient, this time it just must have taken him longer than usual. Maybe he'd get his pain in the ass little brother back after all and burry just a piece of the worry he'd been housing. Dean always made it a point to pick on Sam, that's what big brothers did. Nitpicking every oddity the younger Winchester possessed, but truth be told, he didn't want this version, he wanted the obnoxious, whining, touchy feely Sammy they'd all grown to know and love.

The most disturbing part of Sam's new attitude was his lack of self esteem and the overpowering desire he had to disappear when anyone other than his brother was near by. As a matter of fact, Dean still hadn't figured out how Sam had managed to ditch the last group of people they'd encountered. It was obvious by the noise he was making now that he couldn't even find a door knob, let alone pull a Houdini and vanish. But true to Sam Winchester form, he pulled it off and wouldn't divulge the secret as to how he did it. After shelving the panic attack he'd had, thinking his brother had been abducted by aliens, or Demons, or, _**hell**_, even angels, he'd found the kid sitting in their room staring out a window he couldn't see. Completely mute as to the details of how he got there.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

"Son of a bitch!" Sam shrieked from behind the closed bathroom door. Instantly regretting his volume as Dean was finally sleeping peacefully for the first time in days. Playing nurse maid to their blind brother would tire anyone out, but with _**his**_ brother it was like caging a wild stallion in a fish tank and Sam was painfully aware of that fact. All he'd wanted to do, when he woke up in a pool of his own fermenting sweat, was take a cold shower and wash the puddles of salt that had collected on his grungy body down an invisible drain. Problem was, even a task as simple as that, seemed to evade him at the best of times these days.

Their current residence was a dump, Sam didn't need eyes to figure that one out. It smelled like cigarettes, urine, and an old folk's home. The walls shook whenever someone moved and the sheets felt like a combination of nail shavings and cheese cloth. No matter how much he tried, he just couldn't relax, let alone sleep. Dean, on the other hand, although constantly complaining about the heat, had managed to conk out the minute his head hit the waif of a pillow below it. But Sam, well, he just couldn't get past his own thoughts, add in the tumultuous temperature and he was finished before he even began.

The heat was seeping into Sam's soul, suffocating him. Strangling his every fiber like a cotton blanket in water. He had no idea what time it was, but could feel sun blasting through the bathroom window encouraging his already ragging headache to increase its pounding tenfold. Who knew light could still give you a headache when you couldn't see it. _Yeah that was fair._

And, yes, Sam did know it was a window because when he'd entered the room and tripped over the stupid little plastic trashcan crammed in the corner, he'd managed to fall face first into the mesh that separated the outside from in. Now, to top it all off, he had to take a leak and although he knew where the toilet was, the freedom to stand over the bowl and piss still eluded him. Surprisingly enough, not being able to see where to aim created quite a predicament. _How many times over the last few days, had his big brother cleaned up his misguided trajectory? _Sam thought to himself. He couldn't remember, but he wasn't going to give him an opportunity to do it again. Deflated and frustrated, Sam plopped down on the moist seat and went about his business.

This whole helpless routine was getting pretty damn old and it had only been a few miserable days. _What if I'm stuck like this? What if I'm forced to spend the rest of my life trapped in darkness? _Sam thought_. _There was no way Sam way going to let his big brother become his nurse maid and if he'd had any guts at all, he'd of found a way to make sure of that. More than once, Sam had imagined what it would be like to down the entire bottle of painkillers he'd been given and let the whole horrible world just slip away. But then he'd hear Dean's worried voice and the thought would pass by unabated. He couldn't do that to his brother. It would kill him and after what the guy'd already been through to keep him alive it wasn't an option. Dean had sold his soul to keep him alive, the least Sam could do was suck it up and live in this blindness the best way he knew how. Which at the moment meant sticking his head in the sand and ignoring everything.

Pulling himself out of his current daydream, Sam set forth to finish what he'd started. If it killed him he was going to take a freakin shower. By himself, like a big boy. He was tired of having his independence stripped from him, replaced by gentle tugs and placated sympathies. More than anything he wanted to be whole again. Sam didn't miss the whispers when he was forced into public. He felt the stares boring holes in the back of his head when he dared to venture out of the car or motel room. Only days ago he was normal, or as normal as anybody in his line of work could be, and now here he was, even more of a freak than what his childhood molded him into. In the course of a day he'd gone from flawed but strong and independent, to weak and helpless. Broken in every conceptual way, the youngest Winchester was left with only a frail imprint of his former self.

Sam smirked as he thought of what his father, the great John Winchester, would think of him now, so helpless and weak. Useless. Oh how the Winchester pride would swell at that one. Not only a complete waste to the hunting community, but also a hindrance to everyday society. Not to mention his brother. If the man was disappointed in him before, Sam could only imagine what kind of disdain he'd have for him now.

SNSDSNSD

Pushing the salt crusted covers off his now exposed legs, Dean scooted to the edge of the bed and prepared to stand.

"Damn broken down, piece of crap motels with their shitty appliances and non-existent amenities." He grumbled prying off the last of the sweat soaked linens clinging to him.

At check in, Dean had been assured the air-conditioning worked and it had until they'd unloaded everything and were too tired to find someplace else. Teetering on the edge of full blown sleep, Dean could recall a loud snap as the machine died and the air swelled with heat. His last thoughts before sleep claimed him; of the pudgy balding, squid of a man sliding a rusty key over the counter, one more assurance resting on his fat lips that the ventilator was cooling the room as they spoke. _Damn owner probably planned it that way. _Dean thought, eyeing the dilapidated contraption._ Hurry them along, get their money, eagerly trying to settled them in, knowing full well the damn contraption only had minutes to live._ Dean tabled his brewing annoyance, at least for now, standing and stretching as he tried to relieve a little of the kinks in his aching back. He prepared for another smoldering day.

Another curse sailed through the air making Dean's lips curl into an irritated smirk. The trail of destruction leading to the bathroom door made it clear where Sam currently resided. Apparently he wasn't as acclimated with this room, as he'd been with the last four before it. Dean had tried to make Sam use the cane given to him at the hospital, but stubborn to a fault, his sibling used every excuse in the book in order to avoid it.

Each day that passed with no improvement in his vision, had caused Sam to retreat further and further inside himself. Each minute he spent in the dark caused the younger man to become more introverted and withdrawn. If Dean didn't say something soon Sam would just shut down and quite living altogether. _Then where would they be? _Dean had thought losing Jess was the lowest point for his brother, but this, stripping away his self worth, was far worse.

Watching a person as independent and headstrong as his kid brother, somebody who could take on their father without even breaking a sweat, being reduced to complete dependence was paralyzing and way scarier than the prospect of hell had ever been. Each time he looked into his brothers big, hazel orbs, Dean's heart tore a little more knowing they were useless to the kid. Sam's eyes, still so expressive and vibrant, were beginning to dull. The toll of his blindness choking the sparkle of life he'd always managed to retain/ possess. His expressions of emotion no longer clearly visible through them.

Dean mentally cursed the fact that he was powerless to help or change the current tragedy they found themselves in. For the first time, in his life, Dean wished he were something other than a hunter. If he were a doctor, at least then, he'd have something in his arsenal to fight what was attacking his brother so virulently.

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"Son of a bitch!" Sam cried as his cheap, flimsy razor slipped from his grasp. He could hear it shatter as it hit the broken porcelain edge of the cracked sink below. Leaving what he could only assume were splinters of useless plastic everywhere.

A second later, another curse slipped from his dry lips. "Stupid, substandard piece of crap!"

As Sam knelt down, he used his long arms to locate the remains of his now useless toiletry, he couldn't help but feel sorry for himself and his current predicament. Everything inside the small room was swathed in a blanket of clammy heat. He didn't want to think of what kind of germ infested colonies he was sticking his hands into but also didn't want to risk stepping on the damn instrument and slicing open the bottom of his bare feet. The only upside to dropping the dam thing now, was he hadn't yet taken his shower and could wash the rancid carnage off.

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Dean heard the new curse and pushed his aching body forward. As he made his way to the door, he could hear his six foot four inch brother clumsily searching for something. Whispered expletives drifted under the break of the door causing Dean to snicker one more time. It was hard to miss, considering with every thunk or bump from inside the hidden room, the walls shook and another angry word would surface and penetrate the feeble paneling separating them. Dean quickly stifled his amusement and pushed the warped blockade open.

Sam heard the distinct creak of the door as it was pushed open and momentarily froze. _He had been making that much noise?_ Now Dean was disturbed from the first solid night's sleep he'd had since this whole ordeal began, _great! _Feeling for the flat lip of the soap scum dyed tub, Sam sat down and waited for his brother to scold his stupidity.

"Jesus, Sammy, what the hell are you doing in here, demolition?"

Sam grimaced. "I was trying to take a shower and dropped my damn razor." He spat angrily waving his hands in the air then resting them on his thighs. "Sorry, I was trying to be quiet so you could sleep."

"If that's your indoor voice, Sammy, I'd hate to hear your outdoor one." Dean teased, shaking his head. The older brother then bent down to pick up the razor's shattered remains.

"These things are such a piece of shit. That's the last time I buy disposable razors from a burger stand. Why the hell didn't you wake me up, Sam, I could have gotten this all ready for you?"

Sam's lip curled into a hard shelf of defiance, as his nostrils flared from pent up anger. "Because I'm not two years old, Dean. I'm tired of my big brother setting out my clothes and cleaning up my piss. I wanted to do it myself!"

Dean pulled the lid of the toilet down to sit and faced his distraught baby brother.

"Dude, you will, but, God Sammy, it's only been a week, do you really think you're gonna have it all down in a day? Nobody's that good, not even you, brainiac. Don't be such a douche."

A smile cracked Sam's harsh scowl, the tension on his face loosening slightly. "You know Dean you really should work on your pep talks, they kinda blow."

Shrugging his shoulders, Dean stood up and grabbed Sam's right hand placing a new razor inside. "Well if you still want to take that shower I suggest you do it soon or I'm kicking your blind ass out so I can take one. It's so fucking hot in here, my grandchildren are melting."

Sam snorted and stood up himself. "You and children, now that's something I'd like to see."

Dean's forehead wrinkled into a scowl. "What the hell is that supposed to mean Sam, I've been babysitting your butt since I was four years old"

Dean flexed his fingers and began counting them. "I've changed your diapers, cleaned up your puke, even gave you new sheets when you wet the others. If I can raise you I can raise anybody. I'm a pro."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Mrs. Doubtfire, now get the hell out of here so I can shower." Sam's arms flailed until his hands connected with his brother's bare shoulders and pushed him towards the open doorway.

"Aagghh, jeeze Dean, please tell me you didn't sleep in the buff." Sam made a gagging noise as he thrust the elder Winchester forwords.

"You wish, you perv. Wouldn't want to give you any ideas, _**Samantha**_."

"Get out!" Sam huffed trying to grab the handle but missing by a mile.

"My pleasure." Dean smirked as he punched his little brother in the shoulder.

"What the hell was that for you jerk."

Dean shrugged. "Just showing my love, bitch. Now quit stalling and get your stinky ass clean, we're going out to eat this morning and I don't want your stench embarrassing me."

Sam's face blanched, the humor that was there seconds earlier now replaced by palpable fear.

"I'll just stay here Dean. You can get me something while I'm in the shower."

"No way dude, I'm tired of being your waitress. For freaks sake all I'm missing is a pink uniform and a lacey apron." Dean did a impromptu pirouette in the middle of the room.

"I'm not hungry Dean." Sam tried. "I'll just eat something from a drive up later on, once we're on the road."

Sam tried to push the door closed, but Dean's foot blocked his attempt. In his best big brother, John Winchester tone Dean spoke. "You're going Sam, so hurry the hell up, I still need to shower too and I don't want to pay another night for this hell hole."

"Dean I…"

"No Sammy!" Dean demanded cutting his brother off mid-sentence. "It's time to start living again, whether you like it or not, and the first step is eating, _**together**_, in public."

Sam knew when he was defeated and closed his gapping mouth. He knew this was coming, knew Dean wouldn't take his excuses forever, but had hoped they'd get him as far as Bobby's where it'd be twice as hard for anybody to force him outside.

Dean patted Sam's shoulder. "Chop chop princess, I'm hotter than hell and just as hungry. No more stalling, move your ass." With that Dean thrust the door shut, a warm blanket of air hitting Sam's face, effectively ending their conversation.

As Dean moved away from the bathroom, hearing the water finally running and the squeak of feet as they slapped the slick surface below, he grabbed Sam's duffle and threw it on his bed.

If he were honest with himself, Dean would have to admit he'd be acting the exact same way his brother was, if their situations were reversed. Probably worse. Trying everything he could to hide from prying eyes and insulting whispers. It was easy to keep up the strong, macho persona when you were healthy and able, but showcasing something as devastating as blindness, would make that mask nearly impossible to sustain.

The little taste of blindness given to Dean by Vicki had frightened the hell out of him. It had given him a prospective otherwise unattainable if not experienced firsthand. Lucky for him he could take the specialized contacts out anytime he wanted and see again, his brother, on the other hand, wasn't so fortunate. The real harsh irony was that Sam could see when assaulted by the Cold Oaks bitch, but was instantly thrust back into darkness the moment their connection was severed.

Pulling Sam's neatly folded shirts from his duffle, Dean was about to pick something out for him to wear when his brother's earlier statement hit him. "_I'm tired of my big brother setting out my clothes and cleaning up my piss." _His mind made up, the elder sibling threw the clothing back in the bag and waited for the younger man to exit the restroom.

Sam wrapped the thin, coarse motel towel around his defined waist and dried his hair with the hand towel hanging haphazardly off the metal display rack. Once satisfied he didn't resemble a drown rat, Sam moved towards the doorway. As gracefully as possible, he attempted to find his bed without the aid of his obnoxious older brother. He'd never convince Dean he could be left alone if he couldn't even find a bed that was two feet away.

Even though the water had been cool and refreshing in the shower, Sam was already starting to feel the heat of the room envelope and strangle him once more. Somehow, however, he didn't think the dwindling confinement that held him was entirely related to the weather. The impending threat of maneuvering in public was nearly as terrifying to him as his first hunt had been. Somehow, even through all his families many hunts, that first one stuck with him. Sam would never admit it, but that initial werewolf had given him nightmares for weeks after he'd watched his father kill it. The proud Winchester smile decorating the grizzled man's otherwise emotionless face, a true testament to how important the father felt the encounter was for his baby boy. From that point on it was clear to Sam he should hide his true feelings and pretend to be elated at the death of a monster instead of saddened by the loss of life it presented.

At that moment the young boy was confident his dad would have whipped out a 110 camera and proudly taken a picture of his youngest standing next to the creature displaying his first hunt's spoils if he could have gotten away with it. Good thing nobody believed in the beast and Sam was spared the archaic ritual of posing smugly with the kill of the day. He'd seen the same picture several times, when residing in small, country towns. Young boys standing stoically with shit eating grins plastered on their faces, grasping the horns of their newest elk or deer carcasses. If they only knew, Sam thought to himself, making his way towards his intended target.

"You good it over there, sasquatch, or do you need help?" Dean's voice echoed from somewhere near the door.

After searching the frame with his barefoot, Sam extended his arms and felt the edge of his bedspread.

"Got it, I'm fine."

"Ok, just checking, since you seem to have left your cane on the nightstand, _**again**_."

Rolling his still wildly expressive eyes, Sam sat on the tip of the bed. He could tell Dean was emitting a smug expression even though he couldn't see his face.

A little more defensively than probably necessary, Sam countered. "I am not going to use the damn thing just to go to the bathroom Dean, so drop it, ok? Anyways, didn't you want to take a shower or something? Why the hell are you nagging me, the heat making you cranky?"

Dean scoffed and stood up from the chair he'd nested in moments before. "Making me cranky?" He mumbled to himself.

"Yes I do and yes it is, damn it." Dean whined. "Think you can behave yourself while I'm gone little brother?"

"Yes, Dean." Sam stated running his hands over the disheveled blankets.

"Hey did you set my clothes out, I can't find them?"

Like a ghost Dean seemed to materialize right in front of his brother. His hot breath brushing Sam's ear.

"As I recall, _**Samantha**_, you said you didn't want your stupendously awesome big brother to pick your clothes out for you anymore. So do it yourself. Your duffel's on the table about four steps straight ahead of you."

Sam's face crinkled into subordinate contemplation. "So you're using my own words against me now, Dean?"

Dean displayed a forced smile, hopeful his brother wouldn't hear the concern hidden in his voice.

"You got it. I have to take low blows at you, little brother, since you're taller than the freaking Empire State building."

"You stink Dean, go take a shower before your blind brother dies from affixation. You smell like a rancid goat."

Dean did a quick pit check and smiled. He may be a little ripe but that nose of his brother's was impressive. The things the kid was beginning to pick up on since he couldn't rely on his sight were amazing. Sammy to a fault, he was absorbing stuff up faster than it could be put in front of him. Dean Just hoped he wouldn't have to live the rest of his life in complete darkness, constantly coping with this devastating disability. He had no doubt his brother would thrive, no matter what the circumstance, he just didn't want him to have to.

"I smell like a rose Sammy. You know that superhuman nose of yours is gonna get us both in trouble one of these days right?"

"Great; your mouth and my nose, it's a miracle we're still alive."

Dean rounded the doorway and stuck his head around corner.

"Behave Sammy, get dressed, and pack your stuff, after breakfast we're blowing this joint."

Sam heard the bathroom door shut and felt a small sense of loneliness wash over him. It was irrational and stupid, but not having his brother within ear shot still freaked him out.

As he stood up and located the canvas duffle bag resting on the small desktop exactly where Dean had said it would be, Sam felt for the zipper and peeled the contraption open. He knew he didn't have anything that would clash if he picked the wrong thing, all of his clothes were relatively interchangeable, but the fact that he couldn't see them was beyond frustrating.

The first thing Sam encountered was what felt like a flannel, which made him chuckle. The last thing he wanted to do was wear layers when it felt like the sun had camped right outside their door, seconds away from breaking it down. As his long fingers rummaged through his meager belongings, he surprised himself at just how quickly he was able to find the appropriate attire. A pair of khaki shorts and a smooth cotton t-shirt, complete with cotton socks and a pair of lightweight tennis shoes, he finished the ensemble.

With a renewed sense of feeble accomplishment, Sam managed to get dressed and, to the best of his knowledge, completely packed in the time it took his sibling to shit, shower, and shave. Leaving him to sit quietly on the edge of the bed, impatiently drumming his fingers on his knees, waiting for the older Winchester to get his own butt in gear.

The smile that automatically lined Dean's face was all the clarity needed to know he'd made the right decision in telling his brother to find his own clothes. Operation "_get Sam back to normal_" started here and now whether the kid liked it or not. Next step, Dean thought, while staring at his brother with resounding pride, was to force him back into the public limelight. Neither one of them were what one would particularly consider social butterflies, but they did need human interaction and Sam was not going to miss out on it any longer. There was only so much brotherly interaction either could take before somebody lost an eye. Really, Dean thought, he was doing both of them a favor, as neither one wanted to be charged with first degree murder. _What would their defense be? His brother was just to damn annoying? Yeah that would fly._

**A/U**: Ok so this is a much shorter chapter than I'm sure you were expecting, and for that I apologize, I also want to apologize for not posting in Months!!!!, but hopefully from now on I will do so on a more constant basis. The chapters will probably be smaller for that to happen, but at least they will be more frequent. My life and my Muse both took a turn for the worst, but writing is my passion so I'm going to due all I can to keep it going. Again I want to thank my poor Beta, Marlana, that has to wade through all of my horrid spelling and grammar errors and also say that any remaining errors are all on my shoulders.

**I have put a poll up at my profile page**, so if you could, please stop by and tell me what you think I would sure appreciate it. Also let me know in your reviews if you would like to see Sam stay completely blind, regain partial sight, be legally blind, need corrective aids to function, or be completely healed at the end of this story. I haven't decided yet what I want to do and your suggestions would certainly help. The more I get the more I know which direction to take.

Things have been extremely difficult for me the past few months, well years, and I would sure love to hear what you think of the story with a review. The more reviews I get the better I feel and I then I also know you're still hanging in there over such a stretched out story and that you want it to continue. I'll do my best to answer each one that I get now that my review reply function is working.

***_As a special side bar, I realized that this story doesn't really fit the time line the actual show set forth. Dean came back from Hell in Sept. 08 and for them to be traveling in Oregon, where I'm from, and for it to be that darn hot in what would most likely be October is ludicrous so let's just call this an AU on the old time line of actual events and call it a wash. I'm putting this story in the summer of 09 and conveniently forgoing the whole rising of Lucifer thingy._ J**


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